and i drip into holes
that are too deep.
fingers go into soc(electric!)kets,
tongues taste the could-be-poisonous,
toes get too close to passing motorbikes,
scarves whirl dangerously near ceiling fans.
always at the risk of kablam and fizzbang,
always friends with kerplunk and kersplat,(they
are a pair, aren't they?)i am always
on the endangered list,
the kind that sends out disclaimer flyers to
the surrounding neighborhoods:
"she may spontaneously combust!" or
"she may bring about her own demise!" or
"she may talk of beautiful things, but believe in nothing!" or,
my favorite,
"she has issues!"
but there is someone(he must know who he is)
who shoos away kerplunk and kersplat;
who makes kablam and fizzbang
just onomatopoeia-s;
who renews her hope
and renews her courage
and renews her strength
and renews her love
with every touch of his hand
and every brush of his lips.
until she has no choice(no
matter her futile attempts
at stating otherwise)but to believe him.
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