is there anything

“Is there is anything else I can help you with” you say, sales smiling, with a referential wave towards your shelve of wares.

Yes. You can, but I want what’s buried in the back store room, tucked underneath your turtle shell.

Colored hearts dance around your head as if you’d been struck with a cartoon stick. I wish that you’d look roses my way, too. Perhaps only because you seem to look right past me, I want to be a heart shaped blip on your radar.

I’ve imprinted on you, my duck daddy of creative flow. I waddle after you, flattening myself against a wall, casually, if you turn to glance over your shoulder. I wave and stammer some weak explanation. You are bemused, but not moved; unaware or uninterested.

Let me wrap my arms around your rotundness. You are hard to see beyond my illusion of you, yet I bet I could feel you if you let me close enough. I want to scrape below your surface, unearth the artifacts. I want to explore the layer people think they get, but don’t.

I want you, or maybe I just want your courage to jump two feet headlong into what could be knee deep water or a cove of snakes or possibly the pool above long lost treasure room of Atlantis. I, too, want to jump before I know for sure.

I want double wobbly jelly bean hugs that last all night. I want to feel your chest (with what I hope is a normal amount of chest hair) grow sweaty in our heat and for you to hold me still, like a life raft, like the one watery golden goblet you managed to grab. I want you to know if you let go I’d likely fall into the depths to be lost forever and hold on until you get me to shore.

I blow through town like a windy day. The weather will clear tomorrow and go back to being sunny or rainy. You’ll forget all about it unless someone mentions it. You pause, run through your memory, agree yes, it was quite gusty and wasn’t it quite lovely as a point of contrast, just for a day. You’ll go back to whatever you were busy with, unaware that wind is remembering you. She wanted to wrap herself around you, to caress your face and tussle your hair, whisper in your ear. If only you’d have stepped outside, which maybe you might have if you only knew.