I trace my lips against your imaginary outline, fantasizing who you might be.
My nose catches a glimpse into the life of stranger that passes by.
They smell foreign, yet somehow comforting.
I can taste hints of their domestic tendencies through their fabric softener and hair gel.
Could that be what you smell like?
As I allow my fingers to roam freely within the discounted DVD pile at Walmart, could I have touched your favorite childhood movie at some point?
What if I touched everything?
Could I vicariously get to know you before I know you?
Could that old lady that is putting zucchini in her basket be your grandmother?
If so, could she be making zucchini bread for you?
Could you like zucchini bread?
It's exciting because you very well could.
I look around me and wonder what arbitrary objects would cause me pain if I were to attach them to you.
Could a box of marbles cause me harm?
Would the taste of strawberries learn to curdle in my mouth?
Would the mere thought of sitting on a park bench at a specific time of day during a specific time of year prevent me from doing so?
They all just might, if I came to know you and lose you that is.
Which makes me think it's best that I never find you.
Because I enjoy the smoothness of marbles against my fingertips,
the ripe taste of strawberries,
and sitting on park benches at 3 o'clock in the summertime.
Maybe it is better to think that I know you so I don't have to know you.
Because I don't like zucchini bread.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Thoughts
PoesíaA collection of mostly free verse poems and short stories. Sometimes it is nice to simply clear your head. *Trigger warnings: descriptions of disturbing themes such as: body horror, death, interactions with the uncanny, topics in biology, and suici...
