Some Of The Details I Usually Miss

The memory of you slices
the cucumber in my water glass.

Sweet mother of fiery Amazons!
You shaved your head and tattooed it!

I must be sleeping.
I must be hallucinating from some starchy indigestion.

You are gentle among the animals.
You are restless, cycling through rainbow skin tones.

This must be out of Africa.
Off the Serengeti with lions and elephants.

My focus blurs you into abstract.
How beautiful. How emergent. How lustful.

I want to see rhinos with egrets on their backs.
I want to hear rhinoceros as spoken by Dali in Midnight in Paris.

My memory of you goes to seed
and a wind burst spreads you across the sleeping.

Oh! What has my desire done?
How many ostriches will hatch today?

Oh love! You quartered my cucumber
and remove all the seeds.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney