Am I Allowed to Look at It?

I've got a feeling
that something sublime is just about
to happen. You are my miracle worker.
You came into the room all
feverish and regal like raspberries sizzling
on a skillet. Get it? You ask me what I'm doing
and I say I want to write a poem in cream and watch you drink it.
The world is shiny because you cleaned it.
Joy is something you can trust. It's a good way to relax.
Everything looks great on you.
What are you thinking about now, cuteness?