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Poem: Amuse Bouche 

There is not enough time in my days to think about you.

I am exceedingly ruffled by anyone who interrupts my thoughts.
Especially with a kindness.
Such an inconvenience to these strings of loveliness!
How dare you refill my coffee with a smile?
How incredibly rude, that cheery morning greeting.
I am superbly busy with my daydreaming, excuse you.

Your face, the thought of it, it wrecks me.
I am stealing all of these phrases
But they mean what I feel.
Every piece of me wants you, and it's beautiful and swell, sure,
but each thought is accompanied with a wicked punch in the gut.
I hear your voice and it kills me. I want to be wrapped up in it.
It's way too soon to be this deep.

I have tried to curate your words.
Whispers through blades of grass. Smiling eyes, big sunny pupils.
Remembrances of lives past.
Blanketed murmurs in the dusky daybreak, "You're somethin' else..."
Look at what the light's doing.
Heart swells.
The Tea Song howls on.
It all runs through like water.

You are an open book.
I'm a hard nut to crack, you say.
You mock the word "coincidence," sandwich it in your air quotes.
Ser-en-dipitous! is all we can say.
When you left I thought I could backbend for days.

I don't entirely understand who you are,
Or how you have gotten into my brain.
But you're up there mostly all of the time
Hanging out in the back beneath the apple blossoms
In your hammock, with that shit-eating grin.
Or sometimes up in the front
(When I have the time, that is)

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