take me to starbucks and feed me cash galaxies
The moon was out of soft-serve, and the comets overcooked
the fries
while I stretched into a kiss that knocked me to my knees
I still have that taste in my mouth, violets and love
but my hair isn’t long enough to braid
and you’re not wearing silk underwear.
We can always go back
forward would be better, don’t even have to take the road
let’s run through the trees until we catch a river,
don’t be afraid when I swim away—
you can find me from the sky.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
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