Green Beans

Location

29073
United States
33° 54' 26.1252" N, 81° 13' 47.4708" W

Maybe one day we’ll take a trip to find a space island
or maybe a star island
where we can sit for a little while or maybe all the while
all while tending a garden and the pet cow, 'cause don’t you want a pet cow?
We’re gonna need milk for the breakfast that neither of us ever eat
Or maybe we’ll start to
Maybe we’ll do a lot of things on our star island that we don’t do on this space planet
Maybe instead of leaving behind tickled trails of goosebumps when you sweep your lips across my temples, you’ll leave tiny dots of color
Smallest pixels of the brightest shades of yourself to sink into my pores, pour down to the alabaster core, and scrape bottom at the damp earth
Soon there’d be nothing but swirls of paint flowing up and down these limbs, in and out of this graffitied muscle, sending high viscosity throbs to fill this body of mush and boring white concrete
Hollow out the marrow and replace it with puddles of light, pools of sticky, happy greenness
Fill me up ‘til the whites of my eyes are brimming and bubbling up and blinking droplets the color of my soul over the canvas of your daydreams
Send your light to crash into my teeth, travel down the roots, into my belly until I am as full as the branches growing from the trunk planted in our front yard
Maybe I’ll dig my toes into the dark mulch and let them take hold
I can send my feet miles beneath the day to wrap themselves securely around tomorrow until it is as steady as that same tree beneath which it has grown
I can keep it arrested so as to make this place, not home, but somewhere better to belong to
You can lean against my bark and I’ll still taste every yawn through my oak spine or Redwood milky yolk, or what kind am I? How long is long enough to grow accustomed to a breeze dancing across your eyelids?
If it’s not long enough, I’ll trade my anchored feet for feathered wings and sing you morning songs (when it’s actual morning and not three or four at Night)
I’ll carry strands of your hair to build us both a nest woven of blues and greens, giggles about post-apocalyptic geese, and single pink Azaleas left on windshields.
When I grow jealous of the flashes of color that bloom beneath the translucent skin on your bottom lip, upon tiring of all the flapping required to hover about your flashing mouth, I’ll slip down with the morning dew and settle on your coat sleeve. Snuggle into your breast pocket and sleep.
Even when we lay knotted up, laced together as shoestrings in a tangle of your legs and my arms, I can never get close enough to you
I’m always just a little bit cold, so, hey, can I maybe share your jacket with you? I’ll have to put my arms all the way around you. I hope you don’t mind my arms, the rings around the gravity between us. I hope you don’t mind

Comments

shakethedust

I wrote this about my girlfriend, Kristin.

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