Shangri La La La

Daydreaming of you...

Shangri La La La

 

I am so gone when your eyes plead with mine,

Paradoxically lost without worry;

Hungry in a world of sweetly seasoned steaks,

And the perfect cocktail.

 

I pull your chair out as you approach.

 

I can just see that crazy pink tongue,

Lazy behind those dangerous lips,

Amazing inside that wonderful color,

That is your taste.

 

I am so alive I multiply,

Surrounding your daily fantasy with satisfying reality.

 

My hands are artisan craftsmen,

Sculpting a visage of you,

With A,

Playful spine draped in skittish clothes,

Tippy toes and a dew dropped nose.

 

Your expertly learned hands find my strings and buttons,

Playing my body for handsome music,

Staging my orchestrated emotion.

 

Yet somehow,

It is me conducting you conducting me,

Holding a diamond baton.

 

Damn.

 

Did your skin miss my skin so much,

That my fingertips open violet doors into,

Brilliant rooms,

Running wet with,

Cut fruit and powdered sugar.

 

I move without thought,

Real pressure or hesitation,

Into you;

Into your,

Ever soft labyrinth of mystical legend and heat.

 

I write my life inside you,

Every time we heal each other,

And,

You envelope my letter,

I,

And ground to air service my soul,

To destinations unknown.