Lord, when they smell so good -
and look like angels,
luminous in the morning sun.

My heart is a little bird singing,
dreaming of tomorrow,
delirious with gentle lust.

I see her from a distance
measured only in space & time.
We collide as phantom worlds in the void.

My silly little soul is torn free;
my mind defines a new orbit,
defies the force of gravity & rational resistance.

Love is a simple, idiot-child,
aroused easily by the soft, sloping form
of a suggestive shoulder,
the tempestuous cascade of auburn hair,
the magic portal of her eyes eternal.

O, to be as the wind & ride -
astounded and blind
among wild orchids & astral orchards.