I left my skull on the kitchen table.
It can taste more than I can.
It's only a science
A mix of lines and convulsions
Water and fire blending together as one
Next to my skull, I left you an apple
And next to that, a peach that tastes
Exactly as it looks: Orange.
A synesthesia of movements
Filled the kaleidoscope
You left on the counter.
It amused me more than the clowns did
At the circus, when I was nine years old.
They glowed in the spotlight.
Hot colors graced their skin
Surrounded by music so loud
It seemed to want to make your skull
Pop.
And it did. It drove you to hysterics
As the small men drove in circles
In a tiny car built for children.
And in those hysterics,
My skull ended up on the kitchen table
That I share with you in our small apartment
At 666 Strawberry Avenue.
In the New York City moonlight.
The light that was brighter than your eyes.