he called himself v-tach
(like the heart rhythm)
and he sent me an
anonymous 4 a.m. message--
"you like yellow roses"
Who are you?
Do I know you?
I DO like yellow roses.
He said he didn't know me,
could only sense my spirit.
"I am copper, silver and gold,
a gazer of stars, i love the
rainbow prisms candlelight
makes during a long
elegant luxury bath."
Who are you?
I asked again to no avail.
Then he guessed my favorite
color and said enigmatically,
"While the cat's away,
mice will play?"
"Who is the cat?"
I typed quickly.
"Oh, you're on
target tonight.
I am single.
The cat is merely
those who don't know.
Add me to your address book,
and your friends list.
You won't be sorry."
And in an unexpected
keystroke, he asked me
to give him a quick
quid pro quo on
the subject of rain,
following with the fact
that he too was a poet
and that I should not write,
just feel and let the
keyboard dance underneath
my fingers, so I did.
I gave him the topic
of tapioca pudding . . .
and he waxed eloquently
following the creamy flavors
with the dryness of Chardonnay.
He wrote~
waves of yellow and ofset white bring textures anew pon the buds of taste as the palate rejoices in what it did not know, such wonders of life and tastes to follow are joyfully accepted and partaken of...the chardonnay whisps pon the palate after the taste and dances wonderfully dry upon the tongue, its fruity effervesence ascends thoughout my soul and spirit.
mystery stargazer
fellow poet
copper man
whose fingers dance
as you write to me--
who are you?
I have a strange sense
we have met before.
have we looked up
at the same stars
in the same universe,
together?
