like a child obsessed with Hershey's Kisses.
I want to intentionally misjudge the fire on its
bright body and fall into its brilliant peace on purpose.
It must be my favorite addiction, and I'm willing
to stage-dive into its audience and crowd-surf
into its endlessness, its weightlessness, its spacious garden.
I'm a humble follower of its music, which echoes through
me like Bobby Womack's Aint Nothin' Like the Lovin' We Got
or Luther Vandross's The Closer I Get To You
I'm addicted to your smile, and I want to cast my worries
into its protective suite, like fishermen who search
for their dreams beneath heavy moons.
If I could only croon, I would perform for its perfumed
paradise, its romantic pressure, and its sensual language.
I would love to celebrate its conviction,
but its temperature makes it hard to breathe.
(c)Synnika Lofton 2009
published in Skipping Stones, Vol VI
Mindworm Press, Chesapeake, VA
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