would you

You would think that kissing a poet would be different,
that in that moment,
your souls would touch and sizzle like fire and water,
that a gateway between minds would expand
into being,
and you would share the deepened images
outlined in words, words, words
to give them definition
that only poets' minds can see.
You would think...

You would imagine that in tiny valleys
of each puckered lip
would reign the fertile soil of concept,
expelling long planted ideas as they met,
a wicked cross pollination of images,
blossoming into new species that bathed in
the tropical heat-moisture of human contact.
A natural spreading of the seeds, stanza
and rhyme.
You would imagine...

You would hope that even after your eyes slid closed,
you could still see, perfect images of dreams
created and those awaiting creation,
awaiting that sensitive opening touch,
that understanding slowly sailing outward
on the unique scent of your body,
a bright and glistening dream
existing in the eternal space
between your shining skins.
You would hope...

You would believe in the air shared
betwixt the kiss a sparking ethereal
divinity coalesces, a twinkling fireball child,
the born fruit of two beliefs in seeing what
lies beyond within and around
and what cannot be seen.
The heat and glow bathes each one in
the prodigal faiths of free-mindedness.
You would believe...

You would think that kissing a poet would be different.
That the moment would reverberate in the air
long after your lips had said their sweet lingering goodbyes,
and mark the beginning of a union
that would redefine perfection, recreate the world
and the sorry, loveless stereotype of writers in general.
You would think there would be a tag on the continuum of time
announcing that "This is when everything re-began
the way that it should have the first time around."
You would think so, wouldn't you.







(a collaboration between =oracle-of-nonsense and yours truly)