i want to sleep with you inside a bell pepper

you always told me you wanted a ceiling
high enough for chandeliers.
you did not always tell me that.
i am lying but i can imagine 
how big your wants could get because mine
swell too. sometimes i want to live
in a mcmansion. how i might walk
from room to room to room in search
of a convenience. then, other days
i want to be the acorn's meat.
held like a fallen thumb & carried
towards never becoming as occupied
as a tree. i could not handle
that responsibility. my interest
is in the dirt & what you & me
might become there. truly, i would like
to be pith of an orange. seeds ringing
in a tangle of cirtus. lemon. lime.
tangelo. there are so many places to live
& so few keys to them. at flea markets
you can often find bins of antique keys.
the locks have long ago 
flown away to live in the bodies 
of tall tall men. in the fridge 
is a lovely orange bell pepper
with a sticker for a heart. 
i could cut the smallest hole.
just big enough for me & you 
to slip inside. we wouldn't have to
tell anyone at all. we could
have our own house warming.
laugh & hold the tiny poker-chip seeds
in our hands. breathe on them.
watch baby peppers grow. 
stave off rot with prayers. 
almost a chandelier--the white seeds
spilling from the living room ceiling.
you would sleep. i would sleep
& the shadows outside 
would mean nothing but ghosts. 

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