when i hear your name, i can’t help but to think of palm trees taking a liking to the wind,
swaying drunkenly to the beat of the heat of the sun.
and for some reason i always feel like tickling you.
yes, tickling you.
if i were to tickle you, it would allow me to touch you
while conceiving a combustion of sound waves that could make a prisoner feel free,
a poor man feel rich, the dead feel life.
a smile more perfect than a crescent moon
and a laugh so gentle that your very breath could create a house of cards
and soothe the winds of a hurricane.
if we ever kiss, i would imagine that you would grab my body gently
as if not to assert your masculinity too strongly,
and your virility and my femininity would create a third grade science experiment,
a tornado in a bottle,
a volcano on the table.
there is something about you that i take delight in.
you make me nervous.
and you make me hot.
and it was a pleasure to meet you.