Poetry | Journal

I’m extra cautious not to imagine us
too soon, like this extra crispy crust
ricotta pizza done just right,
a savory center and thick, crunchy edges
made for long chew,
contemplative sips of craft brew
I hated complex drinks last summer
but here I sit, sucking down another.
My friend in the coffee shop tells me
I am a sucker for good art
so forgive me universe for drawing out
the image, the flirtatious text messages
turned sappy repetitions
in every scratched out line of poem
I’m owl-eyed
could jinx it.
The future plans we’ve casually suggested,
the savory smile I can’t fight back
long sips of laughs in bed, time zone distanced
late late night rolling with imagination.
Call me tootsie
call me whenever
you could chew to the center any time
and I’d stop counting how many
slices of ricotta are left,
I’d bus the tray myself
if I wasn’t afraid to scare off
the sweet maybe of knowing
the center of your heart.