How come, day in and day out,
we glide above this round indigo planet
back and forth, trading our own similes
for dreamy hyperboles
and winged poetic insights?
How come on the dark-blue surface
nothing seems sinful or eternally wrong?
The flickering lights turned inside out
guide our flight path, keeping us warm.
Up through the clouds, before landing,
more migratory birds chaperone our sight,
their bleeping signals and musical sounds-
the only uproar in the white background
our shadows, looking for saltwater pearls
inside a spacious enough oyster,
anticipate a deserved here-and-now.
Earlier than most- you open my eyes
(who needs much sleep anymore?)
only to let me see the frozen obstacles
melt down, one by one, with your bare words.
I put aside a few smiles and a PS song
with the remaining drops of perfume
updated, diluted, simplified
for a rainy tomorrow morning or night
(you get to take your pick this time);
That will unburden my neck and my wrists
and let my hair wave a soulful ballad
into the soothing breeze, pampering our sphere.
All around, the nocturnal dew
becomes potable silence, giving us both
two sunrises and two sunsets to juxtapose
and merge inside a new horizon,
defining the misty borders of a perfect world
reigned over by fragrant completeness
and littered only with breath-taking love notes.