you will
certainly be
the ultimate,
paining death
of me.

WHEN I WRITE ABOUT YOU
I WANT TO WRITE IN ALL CAPS
BECAUSE YOU ARE MOMENTOUS
AND EXCITING
AND WORTH SO MUCH MORE
THAN LOWERCASE LETTERS.

YOU ARE THE SUN BEAMING AT NOON
NOT LIGHTLY ON THE FACE
OF DAFFODILS AND CHERRY TREES
BUT SCREAMING THROUGH WINDOW BLINDS
OF TEENS TOO BEATEN DOWN
TO CLIMB OUT OF BED.

YOU ARE FUZZY CHRISTMAS SOCKS
AND HEAVY QUILT BLANKETS
NOT BECAUSE OF YOUR WARMTH AND SINCERITY
BUT BECAUSE OF THE WAY
YOU ENGULF EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH
AND MAKE THEM A PART OF
A SEA OF COMFORT AND REMEMBRANCE.

YOU ARE 3 AM EPIPHANIES
YOU ARE THE END OF A STORY MADE OF PROMISES AND BUMPY PLOT LINES
YOU ARE A BOUNCE CASTLE AT A KID'S BIRTHDAY PARTY.

YOU ARE CREAM CHEESE BROWNIES,
STARS SPRINKLED IN THE SKY,
THE FINGERTIPS OF A KINDERGARTNER IN THE WINTER
TOO STUBBORN TO WEAR GLOVES.
YOU ARE EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD
ANYONE COULD HAVE ASKED YOU TO BE
BUT YOU ARE MOST DEFINITELY NOT
LOWERCASE LETTERS.

Another evening with hues of red
merging into blue, blue morphing into grey,
Grey turning black marred with tiny specks of silver
I sit and watch this metamorphosis
my eyes lusting for a streak of silver
a falling star
want to wish my fortune on it
they say these wishes come true
a speck of dust, rushing to meet a mass of dirt
burnt before it can reach its destiny
a bright end to a splendid rush