A Thousand Pounds of Flaw

Thinking the air around my face
is just as good as kissing when
it's not stiflingly hot
the weather is not in control
of my emotions that I may express
to you more than a greeting card
sentiment. The medicinal charmer
says never try to memorize but
to feel the order and flow with that
like a goddamn surfer riding
a blood wave - awe is lush green
and tropical. Blue tongues of distinctive
dogs hammering home the garden
scene. Holding hands across a field
rain looming where being on guard
again means watching over myself
the fine disasters making butter
into the foam of delight. Is illusion.
Is up all night. Is a poet, a bicycle,
a lovely luminous explosion
and then ordinary activities like
soothing myself or ramping it up
with celebrities that know how to draw
perfect faces on linen napkins.
What does you say to this? You says
keep the thousand pounds of flaw.
I have appointments and desires
any thumping or agitation is in your head
sweet pea ravioli. Do I bother you?