I want a blend of cardamom and sunshine,
and let’s hope there’s no rain that day.
I want a palace, not a place—add the A.
I will store my shadow here; I will store my grace.
I want the song with speckles of white,
playing beneath the ivy as I walk past the lake.
I want the girl who lit up the room as she entered, and lit a cigarette as she left;
we were so smooth and subtle as we tripped over each other’s words.
I want to find the cove we made under the waves of lace.
I want to hold the hand that wrapped itself around my waist in the early morning fate, the one that scribbled letter after letter and signed them, and stamped them, and sent them upstate.
I want a railroad that leads straight to my soul, delivering tones and undertones that might hope to sustain me. I want a deep red evening, I want the moon to fall into the ocean.
I want a clever way to take your heart— keep it near me when we’re apart. I want to know what the clouds will sing, I want to know what the grass will say.
I want some tea with a splash of tomorrow. I want Newark dripping down my cheek, I want love every time you speak.
I want to remember you in a velvet afternoon, eyes bright, wandering through photographs of pink skies and second tries.