Pablo Neruda

You are a poet, I read it in the way
The mess you make is tender like your syllables arranged
I am an idiot, I dress you up in idioms
Like that’s the end of it, our eyes turn from the page
And the summer came
Manhattan June, we’re playing Halloween
Both my arms are lobster claws and all your skin is green
I fled red handed from the shop after that scene
Subways underfoot, the Earth was pregnant with machine
In a summer’s dream
Solstice time, I was slumped up on a stoop
Punch drunk and stupid, shedding salt water for you
I met a stranger whose middle name was Zeus
And their dog, Pablo Neruda
They were both pretty damn cute
Oh, but I still think you’re cuter after all that we’ve been through