Thank You

Sometimes, I call her Ms. Dimples.
Her good days
are weeping clouds
and rain dances,
when she wears her
ever-present, effervescent smile;
shoots one my way
and usually,
that’s all it takes to nail me
coffin silent.
On days when it’s her smile
that precipitates the blues from her sky
to the point of drought,
her eyes whisper:
don’t ask,
hug me now and just
hold me til the rain comes.

She’s five feet
of inspiration,
two inches of attitude,
size six in shoes to prove it,
keep your compliments
behind your tongue
if you don’t want to lose it
type of woman and that’s
just thee appetizers.

She’s mainly, a main course
of confusion at times,
especially when she speaks in opposites; her polars are clearly bygone
and I’m,
the lunatic addicted to the lunacy
she wields in me.

So straitjacket us
if the devil is the tailor
sewing humanity into
the seams of our genes,
when the stitches of perfection
become undone.

I love this woman
for being the seamless fusion
of aesthetics and gray matter,
of nonchalance and benevolence,
for pushing
when I didn’t know how,
for giving,
and syncing our minds
into depths that make secrets shallow.
She once asked me:
“Where has being nice ever got you?”
and I think I finally know the answer.

Close enough to let me love you
is as far as I ever needed to go.

2 thoughts on “Thank You

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