let's ride our bikes into the sky
i'll lean in to kiss your nicotine lips
and you'll laugh
pull away
and whisper something about your dreams being in the clouds
so far out of reach
& my tastes are too dry for yours
    you like to peruse the deep wines of France
           meander on roads that exist only in your mind
                  look upon the words of Bukowski
                          and the art of Bansky
you've woven your own reality
you dream of holding a cloud
i say that i'll change
that i'll catch you a cloud
you laugh & say there's no hope for me
so i got you a cirrus
      as whimsical as you fancies
     as high as your spirits
as fleeting as your love
i hand it to your
        you raise your hand
                      now my cheek stings.