Drowsiness is trickling onto the sheets,
the pocket watch ticking towards sleep,
that truth serum which holds me down
at night so I can walk up straight awake.
I don’t want another image drawn
of you by my subconscious –
not of your green eyes, not of your scarf,
not of your voice, not of your earrings.
Quietly as my mind constructs the puzzle
that will turn out to be your face, I know,
I sip more hot chocolate and swallow
the memory of you brushing your brown hair.
Cinnamon is wafting through the room,
I observe the orange sky outside for a while,
I hear you speak of worlds I have never seen
and wonder what your lips taste like.
And what if…
You’re my first friend. You smile,
and so do I. A different affection:
all is well.
Lidd: John Kaada – Smiger. Dat ass Dänesch fir Schmeichelei.