Side Street Flowers
will you be the one?
the one who will pick flowers with me?
natural side street flowers, long stemmed, glowing green,
sprayed water, dripping petals, fresh cut,
arranging bouquets in a number of my traveling apartments,
will you smell them with me?
write about the way their colors taste?
how long will you harvest my side street flowers?
how will you show empathy for them while they wilt?
free, light, breathe, don’t lie,
float in lack of control,
control only your forgiveness,
I’ll control your need for sought out touch,
you’ll bless my freedom when you simply pick out flowers for us,
dancing colors spread fast in anger,
cool this off,
don’t arrive at a 90 degree angle with me,
U and I don’t bend like that,
slow down around the bend,
enjoy my flowers and you’ll enjoy me,
you’ll enjoy us,
dance with me while holding my staring face,
Love is not a word or a phrase,
it’s a quaint gesture of softness when we’re not in the same room,
how will you treat me when we’re not in the same room?
do you feel warm with my memory?
do you touch the wall tracing the letters that spell my name?
I will sacrifice all attached to me to live in the truth of our tomorrows,
do you fear me, or do you fear how my life moves?
like spilled water on a heavily polyurethaned coffee table,
clotting in puddles in one moment, then slipping of the edges in another,
not staying between the lines that were explained to me,
I spill, I drip, I leak, but how strong or weak is your sponge?
I ask you not to stop me from falling,
instead to splash in my mess,
roll off the cliffs of an organized agenda,
laugh wildly while enjoying the puzzle of a calm chaos,
I wasn’t built for high-school double sessions,
I was meant to be in the alleys,
clamped to the 6 senses,
exploring doubt with faithful parachutes
By: Bryan Matthew Boutwell / LiveFiction.net