You're a stone like the moon
Mottled with fated freckles
Nestled in her hand, feeling the vibrations of an alien language

We're talking about what an idiot you are.
Foggy mornings, lost in thought
Pizza and ranch dressing for breakfast.
Pajama pants, dewy grass
The cream and sugar coffee palette bath,
And...
Sink.

The wide plane of stratus drifting overhead
Like the biggest, silliest hat in the universe.

You're an ape wearing fuzzy socks.
And you're best friends with a dog.
You're a polyp lost in a storm of thoughts.
You're a garden full of moss.

You're a dreamer with a purpose.
You're a singer in a band.
You're a trekker on a journey,
You're a stone inside my hand.