Originally published in Weber State University’s “Metaphor” 1999
Someone I’ve heard
say things before
is looking for me
somewhere.
I see him in a bluish dark,
smoking a joint
doing a French inhale,
looking like the Lone Ranger
but wanting to be more than alone.
He is spontaneity
and long nights under
foreign covers.
He is the element
of surprise
with a serious face
when he wants to be
hidden.
I am longing for him
and
disguising
myself as his princess
that floated out of a dog’s life,
up from reality
to cloud nine.
It all sounds cliche;
princesses and endless love,
yet he squeezes
my hand so firmly
all these words
come pouring out,
and drop on the petals
of an unwatered flower.
