Yellow wildflower, purple seashell; a peacock feather in monsoon and you —
I found you
In an apartment with a sunset wall and cane chairs.
Like an oyster closed shut against the waves of salty seawater; closed against the sun reflecting golden-green.
You are more than body, clothes, cigarettes, water; the scatter of thoughts and fog within you.
There you are,
So far afloat in a sea — golden and green, and I found you!
Do you ever wonder if the world is all imagination? Stardust for skin; the road and our houses a sandcastle creation?
Oh, what are the chances of birthday phonecall-kisses from my grandfather before he died; unread messages and wet eyelashes on a lonely night?
Scratched and bruised and cracked by an ocean, darling you and I — what are the chances?
What are the odds you'd survive your storm and go on,
Past seaweed and sharks?
That counting days, "one, two, ...thirty-seven thousand"
I'd have found fallen hibiscuses at bus stops, a card in my bicycle-basket and on a sublime day midst salty seawater, golden and green... I'd find you?
Yellow wildflower, purple seashell; a peacock feather and you —
I found you.