A smile, an encounter, an open mind.

The smell of gardenia, made to order.

Six two, are you? Internal joke.

Sharp mind, soft hands, touch of heavens.

Keep talking, you’re interesting, shed those layers.

Can I see you practice? Can I come to dinner? Can I serve your tea?

Type A’s, two of us, across the table…

catalog…made to order.

The full moon has turned you into a wolf

and I want to be ravaged,

but will settle for a hug.

What is that you’re wearing? Gardenia? I’ll carry the smell in my car.

Can’t hide my excitement. Can I see you? We have plenty of time.

You talk, I listen and suddenly I’m high.

Catalog, made to order.. it was you, and so it was?

By tuttysan © 2007

Gardenias and toothpicks – a poem.