I finally sent him a letter
tied to the leg
of the same little blue bird
that had told me many things.

I didn't know what he would do
at the time,
but he responded with such enthusiasm,
it was almost too much.

And so we went out
and talked over drinks,
and then he kissed me
after forgetting my name.

He was dashing, he was tall
he laughed a lot and smiled a ton!

I only ever saw him in the same place;
he helped all who entered,
gave them their bread and drink
and he liked to laugh with me.

Did he really like me?

I sure hoped so;
it would have been mutual,
reciprocated.

You like me?

Likewise.

I was busy chasing someone else
when I knew the love dissipated, disappeared.

And then a little blue bird came flying from a big blue sky, bringing a message not on its leg, but in its chirp.

There was another who knew me,
and then he watched me,
and then, well,
I suppose he liked me.

Heavy smoke hangs in the air,
lazily,
it's the smell of patchouli, right?

Angel kisses caress your skin,
Orion's Belt on your shoulder,
Pavo above your navel,
Columba upon your face.

Angel kisses caress your skin,
as do constellations.

I am amenable, but acquiesce;
you speak bombast words of poetic genius,
contumacious when I suggest candor;
must I be this elicit?