I wanna tightrope walk on contrails,
skinny dip in the zephyrous yonder
lost in wild blue wanderlust thoughts with you.
We can linger in the umbra
when the sun holds its nose and dunks under;
let our starry Van Gogh eyes
light up Cheshire bright
and wink
like Betelgeuse and Orion.
We can fit our feet with Autumn leaves,
surfing the dusky sky’s coffeebreath breeze
and jump into the raked piles
of our fall in love.