Tangled Up in Blue {Poetry}

Painting, Marc Chagall, 1949, The Colour of Love 

Today I want to be tangled up in blue,

I want to do the opposite of something,

to just be still with you,

I want to wrap my arms around you like a blanket,

a blanket we suddenly need,

and then I want to feed you –

my poetry, and ideas,

and maybe some delicious burritos,

with avocado slices,

things for you to digest slowly,

and I want to talk about tomorrow,

but not for very long,

right now I want to hunt a couple rainbows,

for what else, what else is all this damn rain for?

I want to straddle you on our couch,

while the dog barks his stupid jealous bark,

you in your steadfast truth,

yes, I want a little bit of that,

and then I want you to tell me a secret,

one just for me to know,

one for my ears only,

a sexy, funny secret,

all this, all this I want before we set out alone,

alone to do what we do when we are not together,

or still,

or tangled up in blue,

no longer wrapped inside a moment,

dear heart, you – 

I want you whispering something lovely and real,

before we bid adieu.