Plugging in the mixer, I

“Mix ’til small peaks appear”

Searching for images of us in those hills 

and valleys, I can hear

Summer sprinkling 

An indigo haze 

Over my memories not so near.

The future is written in that bowl

Sugar-cream topographies of the soul. 

 

But the frosting has to wait

While we conjure up the rest

Patience is a virtue 

And she’s putting us to the test.

 

There’s a rhythm to the madness now

Bouncing from cupboard 

To cupboard

I’m a jazz percussionist in the kitchen

We syncopate

Undeterred.

 

I find meditation 

In the mess —

Feel my eagerness 

As it ricochets

 

Off the walls 

Of the chambers 

Of your chest.

 

Ding! The batter’s rising —

I can’t tell if it’s time…

You distract me with your grin —

It’s your favorite little crime.

 

Your glutinous charm is a hazard,

It’s a sweetness that hugs the hips.

I’ve never seen a lifetime stuffed

Into such tiny, 

Tender lips.

 

The suspense is searing,

My heart rate is far from leveled

We need to hurry up and wait —

But we are one, and we are disheveled… 

 

Wait, we did it! I say to myself proudly. 

But I touch the too-tender center of our masterpiece

Realizing I shouldn’t have said that 

so loudly. 

 

If we only had a minute longer

To see it all play out

We would have found 

What all this frenzy

Was really all about.

 

For now,

you might be the only one,

who understands the flurry of fun

that comes with a kind of loving 

That is simply 

not 

quite 

done.