He walks at my side,
steps falling steady
on the up-beat
of his words
that march in a lively polka.
Each phrase
rings with confidence
as they grind over my face like sand,
filling my mouth with a too sweet taste
like creamy white chocolate
on a warm, humid day.
Each word rolls across my cheekbones
and crams itself into my ears
where it bounces around loudly,
the beginning of a headache.
His eyes, burnished bronze,
glow like sunlit autumn leaves
quivering in the October sky.
His hands wave about in emphasis
as he tries, unsuccessfully,
to explain the details
of his newest idealistic dream.
My mind shuts down
and I listen to the hum of his voice.
When I disregard his words,
I find his voice a pleasant, loving rhythm,
filled with smiling emotions
that sooth away my unease.
Every once in a while I mutter
a ‘yeah’, ‘uh-huh,’ or ‘that’s cool,’
yet behind my eyes
I picture overcast sky, his failure.
He never really acts
on his amazing, improbable dreams.
He gets caught in everyday life
and forgets,
leaving his dreams
to be towed upstairs to the attic
and placed in an unmarked, dusty cardboard box.
This is when he turns to me
and gives me a strawberry jam smile
and so warmly asks
…“So, what do you think?”