Carry me at your hip

A long strapped
Soft leather purse,
Or Guatemalan fabric bag.
Whatever you prefer.
I’d even be blood red
Polyvinyl Beijo* for you.

Reach into me
For keys.
This one opens
Your backdoor eyes.
This one
Your front door smile
This one
Your Cadillac heart.
Maybe pink. Guzzler
Of liquid word dreams.

Lay me down
In the passenger’s seat.
Drive slow,
All around
the town of Fort Metaphor
and Outer Suburban Simile.
You, the mayor
Of polysyllabic mystery
Inspiring your holy citizenry.

There’s a mirror in me.
Here, study
Your pores.
Shake the cold
From your hair.
Glide this shine
On your lips
And speak.

*Bay-ZHOO: 1. A kiss  2. a lawful kiss, never worth as much as a stolen one 3. handbags designed by one mother for other mothers, many with a singular pearlescent finish.

2007

One Response to “Carry me at your hip”

  1. wit says:

    if you are trying to induce weeping amongst us, you are fairing well.

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