He came around, I call him Boa
Encircling circle protection
Constricting all my airways
He draws me up by my neck
Making it difficult
But not impossible to breathe
Iridescent shimmering stripes
Rubbing off on what I can only presume is a magical wand
As if by magic, he just knows
Clearly, he’s well versed in the art of perspectives
Surmising a refined view from the ground
& among the boughs.
Surfing learning curves
Board-certified & adept
At marking yellow notepads
In scribbles of blue ink.
If you want to know,
Assuming is like asking;
Without saying words.
He speaks to me in
The language of love
Est-ce que to parles français?
I think he was asking for directions
All I could do was
Contemplate the secrets of
Sapphire eyes questioning
What to do regarding record keeping
& space-saving methods
In a flutter my mouth uttered – Que?
No sé francés señor
Y me encanta
cómo hablas inglés
