why do people put locks
on the links of chain link fences?
I want to open my window
and hear the crash of a billion snowflakes
I want to feel the circle of your arms
and the slip and slide of your skin on mine
in warm water, somewhere in the Caribbean
and doze in a hammock
with a lemonade in hand
I want to pretend to be Hemmingway
and sit in a cafe, sipping a Cuba Libre
I want to write I love you
on a napkin
and slip it your way
see your face
hope your eyes light up
like the way they do when I dance with you
I want to dance with you
in a salsa club
pulsing music and your body leading mine
to tumble into bed with you
and wake up in France, with creamy brie on my tongue,
the smell of french bread in the air,
the crackle of the crust as I break you off a piece.
I want to lay in the grass
of a field somewhere
a fleecy blanket keeping the cold out
and the heat in
as we look at the stars
and grip the blades, entwining our fingers
and holding on
so we don’t fly away
except with each other.