Surrounded by desert island books
and
ever-present scorpions,
I
pass coconut time, la la la,
scrubbing
the ken of tombstones,
pick
at the all-you-can-eat buffet.
Until
something pleasant rocks
on
the vacant horizon ―
your
unexpected boat
floats
like the moon in a day-blue sky,
some
far-off classical station plays Bach.
You
stand as if you know me,
toss
a life ring my direction.
I
squint, wade out for a better view,
doggy
paddle slow at first,
wonder
if Picasso had a stomach ache, too.
Sea
streams from my nose.
You
grab me with gosling hands,
pull
me on board ―
feed
me minestrone by osmosis,
turn
me into a bouquet of roses.
tk/March 2013
Image by TheFoxAndTheRaven
