The illusionist drawls,
"Choose wisely", fanning his cards,
and she, eyeing Five of Cups,
POPS her bubblegum, chooses
"You", deciding that the imp
who claims he's not an archetype
is merely the reversed Hermit.

"WHAT?" I roar,
feigning rage, scoffing,
shoving you away
but you reel yourself back,
laughing and grinning and
I murmur, "tesoro",
only into my tea,
because if you knew
you're my treasure,
you'd leave.

Reclining on our backs,
we wonder at the sky.
You point to the abyss of potentiality,
and, tracing her tattoos
with your hand in the air, mutter,
There, like the closing

to some sacred ceremony were we've

united halves into wholes, and suddenly

I do

spot a falling star, and wish

to be the twin of your essence

and for however long forever is,

drink the glittering moonlight in your eyes, if you'd

let me tell you everything I'm thinking,

and I'm thinking that,

wouldn't it be divinely suitable if

we, alone, together, both half of

the same constellation,

drifted about the snow-white night,

our dreams tumbling from our tongues like

a waterfall from the basket of

the water-bearer?

[Wine]...one glass, tipsy...

with his hand pressing her waist

close to his body, she feels

comfortable, desirable, warm, drunk

with pleasure in his leading arms,

she forgets steps between Latin beats, and,

as he fearlessly caresses her hair,

she wonders how it'd feel to

fully entangle herself in him,

gradually unfolding like a lily,

finally drinking him in.

A delicious, undeniable secret:

like fine wine, he's a decade aged.



[Lemonade]...two glasses, nauseous...

and yet her heart sighs for

the sweet Prince Charming who must have

parted the seas to settle

in her home land, since he

grins and glows when he sees her.

She longs to be his companion,

to debate, and learn, and

Be, and, God willing,

joke, in his company.



[And Everything Else]...three glasses, quenched...

and there are infinities of

unsustainable drinks that tempt and

shine and inspire admiration, like

avant-garde paintings from

an optimistic, sprouting, pop artist,

hung on the walls of her mind,

in the nooks the grapevines missed,

pandemonium in silent moments,

until she grows weary and parched and

opts to sip water instead.