on the corner of sky and lamppost. I will look for you so wear your eyes. Wear your face that has slept in curls. I will breathe the tulip scent of your hair and the sidewalk’s soot-lined snow. Don’t forget to bring your delicate feet, those edible toes uncold in your oversized men’s boots. I will come with my hands holding bread — broad loaves creased with rosemary. And I will come with wine, two plummy reds bearing bicycles, top hats, and names we cannot pronounce. Bring your accordion mouth and your love of emptiness. Bring a fire and the wild nest of your neck. Bring your open throat.
from Stowe Boyd http://www.stoweboyd.com/post/147809612102
