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.