in a field of dandelions

let's skip that semantics 
about what is/ isn't a flower

a field like 
the one between the make-shift baseball mound
& the gnarled bikini line of brush
around the creek in bowers

there is nothing/no one
i will shave for 

i let ticks drink my blood
until they fall off fat &
satisfied

i have enough white cells
for the both of us &
the only cancer is the crab 
boiling in star heat

the sky is tangerine peel
& peach-pink eye shadow--

i buy makeup palettes just
to test the colors on my wrist

sapphire, azul, navy blue
indigo, egg plant, plum

we write color names on
scraps of paper to choose 
new names
from a jar like raffle tickets

you call me cobalt
& the sky arches their
brows like draw bridges

you ask me to plant
hydrangeas under your lids--
lashes green grass
ankle prickling--

i see myself with a porch
(or at least one i can borrow)

my father a tomato plant
my mother a basil bush

i eat them both with fresh
cold white mozzarella

i won't have a house
but i'll wear a roof on sundays
& a back door when
you need to be let inside

maybe i'll work
at a coffee shop again

using milk foam to write 
holy spirit dove in to 
a shot of espresso--

my past lovers will have all
come to visit--

each with a wedding ring to 
slip on the finger of the oak
tree outside my window--
branches scratching glass 
begging to come inside & sprawl
out on the couch 

five years is too long 
you know?

we could have scared the
moon away by then

i could be cremated &
you could keep my ashes
on the mantel like a high school diploma

maybe we won't have each other's phone numbers

there could be no more bees

& you could turn to me &
ask if i remember dipping
tablespoons in honey & swallowing
catacombs--

we could meet aliens by then--

the shape of parking spaces
altered to fit their circular UFOs

will there still be fruitloops?

80 calorie greek yogurts?

i see myself turquoise

at least on tuesdays--

i see allergies to red pollen
& taking a liking to cool showers--

peeling ripples off the surface
of a lake to start aging
my face--

we'll still have soft skin, right?

i see you praying for me 
& God changing radio stations 

i see telephone wires
cut with pruning sheers

i see the light from the refrigerator

the grapes in the bottom drawer

dandelions emerging from
beneath the carpet--

from under fingernails 

i see us assumed into constellations
Geminis halves 

stars as joints

i see i see 
nothing but blue