head home

take every sweet thing in this world, every tiny bit of wonderful, and give them to you, not as tokens but as some-things like unwrapped gifts. keep sliding them across the table like poker chips, when they're silly and chunky when you get lucky and keeping winning and winning, when the stacks multiply, higher and higher and chunkier. when the odds fall finally in your favor. things like this are endless, i'll hand them over for some idealized infinity. let's come and go indefinitely. sweet things, ya know, like the ultra-saturated pink and yellow of the dutch tulips on the kitchen table, the flash lifespan of the magnolia tree outside my window [a secret from me for eleven long months], the little points on the philadendrum when it's nearly bursting with growth, green like the color of tender, like the muted hue of intimacy, almost wet, so soft.