Some days she's an hourglass
and I'm unfamiliar with mirrors
Looking in through a window
I can't see myself in
As seconds tick away,
it's her image to which I'm listening
Desperate to be a grain of sand
and pass through her existence
Other days she's a guitar
I can 't play or even
tune with no strings
And a resonance that
swallows my acoustics
Occasionally she's a diabolo
pirouetting on it s end
Walking like a tornado hula -hooping
gold -plated halo -trends
She carries the momentary taste
of honeysuckle lipstick
On snug -fit ting, full -flavour,
money -shot lips
Her smile is a lesson
in the anthropometrics of kissing
In ways the average man
will span a lifetime without missing
Most days she sheds
great white smiles
Like snakeskin while shopping
Stopping to pocket free cookies
And extra shots in her coffee
She's a slow -leaking flesh
wound
you can hold in your hands
She speaks with a soft
French caramel tim bre
Of boutique chiffon quality
at everyday pricelessness
Dressed in violent animal passion
with liquid pitch locks
That float like she's underwater
and dye the air almost hitchcock
Diluted oils on cartridge paper,
leaving 3D maps you can't
switch off
Her favourite feeling
is the way they place their hands
Her favourite sound is a rousing energy
Her favourite smell is momentary sanity
Her favourite shape is
being attracted to gravity
Her favourite flavour
is swimming in a pool of heat
Her favourite number is one
hundred and thirty six
Her favourite colour to paint
in is transparency
And her fa vourite words to say no to
are will you marry me
I want to learn her by rote
And still be surprised
when she holds the lump in my throat
With that knife in her eyes
She tells my life story in silence
But still talks the talk
And raises money for
confident conversation
With a sponsored walk
She donates a regular beat
from her small chamber left atrium
Precariously balanced,
on the edge of overt altruism
She says what she wants,
and I take her at her word
Manipulate the letters to form ana
grams of thoughts I've overheard
They sound like a barbershop
quartet
through a weeping saxophone
Staining eardrums previously
dyed in monotone
Most days she thinks I'm a monochrome
joker carved in bass relief
Staring from my fixed position
at her Technicolor masterpiece
And she gets precious
if I tread near her pretty painter feet
Of course I won't trample on them,
but they need air to breathe
So on days when I skate towards her
she lays down gravel
And I've tried to orbit her gorgeousness
but I'm unable to travel
I've memorised her delicate
constellations of imperfections
For when I'm a little dejected
and need something to reflect on
And I keep bottles of her reflection
in my medicine cabinet
Between the Plasters and the Prozac
for when I need something drastic
She plucks stars from scarred skies
to decorate self -raising cakes
that I have and eat
Scrapes a knife full of space,
spreads soft night over
my toasted daydreams
And I'll never understand her,
but I know just what she
means
Her favorite feeling is the
way rain plays telephony
Her favorite sound is unfounded energy
Her fa vorite smell is
momentary sanity
Her favorite shape is being
attracted to this gravity
Her favorite flavor is
swimming in the pool
Her favorite number is
one hundred and thirty
Her favorite color to paint
in is transparency
And her favorite words to say no to
are will you marry me
Her favorite feeling is the way
rain plays to lightning
Her favorite sound is
unfounded energy
Her favorite smell is momentary sanity
Her favorite shape is being attractive,
it's gravity
Her favorite flavor is
swimming pool clothing
Her favorite number is one
hundred and thirteen
Her favorite color to paint
in is transparency
And her favorite words to say are two,
I'll fill you back in
You you
Middleman 
