Laughter in technicolor, in multi-
dimension. Laughter as sweet as the
wine. It spills over onto the loose-
leaf pages. The floor is sopping with it.
I try to mop it all up once we’re
through, but you grab my hand and
shake your head. “Tomorrow will be the
same my dear, do not worry for tonight.”
Your earth tones dazzle.
They overwhelm me.
They are like a fire I have seen
in a fall forrest. They are ablaze.
I drop everything. Sit in the wire back
chair with you next to me and drink
you in. All your flavor. All your taste.
You are a rich merlot and I am a long
Is everyday a festival for your people?
I should think so. How do they make
their smiles so wide? How do their
wrinkles stretch like that?
The folds by the eyes of the elderly
only increase the light behind their
dark iris. I want to lean over so I
can hear their whispers.
The taste of goodness on your lips.
The sound of culture in my ears. You
draw me in and here I am, now with
everything in hand.
For you my dear,
I come with everything.