I ALSO WANT...

I want you in my Jell-o, and the pages of my dictionarIES.
Architecture: noun. Eyebrows of roofs lift over door mouths.
Wish to find you at the bottom of my glass of Quick:
sip you, make loud sucking, slurping sounds
as I down the last drop of chocolate goo and burp.
Want to know your numbers as if you are my clock.
Dream you: sheets, pillows, blanket, mattress.
Read you: every syllable of every novel and poem.
Recognize in you a vast expanse of geography.
Speak you, the wheels of my bicycle, circulating
to markets and dwellings of friends at the horizon.
Wet you, postage stamp, envelope and toothbrush.
Scan the headlines, you, newspaper and magazine.
Find you in the elements of atoms' revolutions,
faster than light neutrinos, electrons, quasars gathering
galaxies, red stars, black holes, invisible planets'
mathematics and computations.

Want you evidently everywhere: water, ozone, fire;
in the closing of an eyelid, or parting of a lip;
know you by the turning of a page,
the opening of a door, or the taking of a step
toward the rendering of a drawing of desire.

Published in Zero City. Issue #0, Olympia, WA, May 1996.