If love is to gold;
Your hands are to Midas.
In a pan of penne pasta,
Or sizzling out a fresh cracked la croix.
Touched my tummy,
Full of gold, Midas nurtured safety.
Don’t worry bubble guts,
Take a whipper for love.
Plunge, jump, reach,
go ahead,
Fall.
Into my pile of blankets on my sheepskin rug.
Share in ecstasy of being witnessed,
I call you to the stand!
In 1803 where we both reached for the same mango.
I loved that bodega, in that other life, where our souls crossed paths that last time.
Or so I can imagine.