I wish I could step
Into the only picture I have of you;
Just peel the plastic apart
And stretch it over my head
Like a too small T-shirt
That evaporates
Once I contort my head and arms through.
The world on the other side would be a Wonderland
Where the Sun rises and falls
At our command,
The Moon tells stories
That warm cool nights,
And the stars twinkle and wink
As we lay beneath them.
But God is not
Lewis Carrol,
So I’ll just sit and think of you,
Staring at the picture,
As I stir
My third White Russian.
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