I could fill hot air balloons
with the heat of this emotion.
Orange balloons, blue balloons,
rainbow striped balloons
soaring over green hills
and your small white house.
Look up, I’m waving down at you.
Here’s a rope ladder.
Climb up, sit next to me
in this wicker basket
and we’ll chase the sun
even as it dips under the earth.
Even if it escapes us,
even if it grows dark,
we’ll float along under
every rich star in the sky,
but if you want to reach them,
you’ll have to kiss me.
Burn a little hotter, hotter,
and promise the atmosphere
we’ll come back down soon
(a promise we don’t have to keep)
and fill our arms with as many
stars as we can hold.
Bite into one like a fruit:
juice like light on your tongue
but I taste that every time
my lips meet yours.
