Kites, Keys, Krinkles

One, school. In a jar. The only cookie, looks like one.
But it was tender, so tender. It melted down my throat.

Two, lunch. At an eatery. Generosity. My pseudo-aunt
placed on my palm that cookie look-alike. Still tender, so tender.

Three, internet. On the book of faces. I ate your timeline.
Thunders went down my spine. That cookie is a mystery.

You are the solution.

By chance.

***

*Krinkles intended

I couldn't steal it.

A Sky Poem

Making love in the sky.

You are a culmination of my wholeness.

You are the key to the door to sanctifying happiness—
to an untouched world, where I can fly along
with you freely,
sing with you,
move according to the music of the voices
that create colorful lines of light in the midnight sky,
making real love.

You are what I have been waiting for,
dreaming of,
praying for.

You are a dream in reality,
for I can see you clearly,
but I cannot touch you—
to let you sense how my soul
transforms in trance by seeing
your wholeness.

And of all existences, passions, humans, dreams,
there are no such other things like you.
What appears is
you.