In that whisper thin
between sigh and tears
save the moment,
think of me, my dear.

I long for you to be my grape
and I your seed,
or I bee,
and you my honey?

That you would dissolve in me,
and I in you,
and like apparitions,
we would inhabit each world.

I heard you were serving cookies.
We both know i'm a ginger snap.
Know you have a thing for coconut,
but by no means are you a ****.
I was thinking Dutch Bokkenpootjes,
but when transcribed to Goat Feet - just won't due.
Ice cookie would bring ill fame,
Meringue too light,
Lemon curd too sour,
Oat meal too hardy,
I'm thinking chocolate reflecting your darker moods.
I think I have it!
Mint liqueur double chocolate.
Now, do I have your permission to eat you up?

Tomorrow,
like an earnest lobsterman,
I'll head out,
regardless of foul or fair seas,
to hoist my first ***
expecting to find a word from you.

I was never certain
as a do-it-yourself kid
that two juice cans
connected taut by string
worked as a hello machine.
I wish you were here, my dear,
so I could test it once again.

**** the poets
for wearing out
the very words
I wish to use,
"I love you."