A Poet Spots a Hill and Calls it 'Woman'

“Sometimes I fit in tiny cracks in the linoleum” (Maureen Seaton)

Sometimes I do too,

other times though,

I look like,

feel and smell like

a tank-topped

polka-dot

entangled

fluorescent pink

tanned lined elephant

trying to fit into a charred peg-hole.

   

Drop your pen and coffee cup,

may I have your attention please,

for the love of it all,

please please please

just sing to me.

Peel my dead-skinned glasses off

and show me what it means

when our eyes meet,

your legs crossed,

propped up by my imagination,

which by the way,

has a mind of its own.

Tell me what it means,

when I walk up to you

and my mouth feels

like my feet do

after I run away

because the poet inside told me it would be

poetic.

Just for once,

stop sashaying your flared hips,

looking with pouting eyes,

and conversing in silence,

because all it does is make my life

completely

utterly

truly

and biblically

unconventional.