Take Five
Take me away to the spice markets.
The burning sitars and mandolins, like I remember.
Take me away to silent museums, with ceilings as tall as the sky is wide.
Take me to windy mountain tops, snow sticking in your eyebrows.
You’re cold and your teeth are chattering.
Take me to your childhood house, your trees and ceilings and caves and hidden holes.
You giggled here for hours, found bones and sticks and picked forbidden flowers from the grumpy Frau next door.
Take me to photographs of yourself… the one’s no one has ever seen.
You’re smiling without worry here, and you’re not scared. The chocolate on your chin could be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Take me to where you cry at night: Your bedroom.
Take me there and hold me. Let me feel those hot salty tears. Let me feel your body quake with embarrassment, as you cry silently: “no one can hear me.”
Or maybe we can just wander until we find those things. For now, maybe you should just take five with me.
