i wonder if there is some sort of ancient knowledge
steeped, deep in this cup of chamomile
i scald my tongue trying to taste the freedom that licks your soul
i am calmer as it settles, warm, into my stomach
but no wiser; i sigh, and move to the next mystery

perhaps my lips, pressed lightly against your used cigarettes
will become blessed with a little of your talent
maybe within these i will find some essence that will aid me
allow my sight to spread wings, catch flight, the ways yours seems to
let my mind wrap around life like your fingers once wrapped
around the smooth white paper of these ashtray offerings

or maybe, just maybe, there's a secret spell
locked away within this vivaldi composition
if i reverse the seasons, will i understand
the swirling of your words, the joy and despair lush within your being?
will i suddenly feel my lungs expand with a new appreciation
for all that is, and yet might be?

i sigh, for i know these trinkets do not hold your enigma
no pieces to your puzzle, and i must be satisfied with that
oh, but every time we kiss my heart tastes more
more of your gypsy spirit and your heart's anarchy

i would toss aside my safety, my security, my sanity
just for a moment, whisked, into your universe




if only you would have me