On the first day, I saw you
a rainbow, luckied my charms
over to the other side of the room
to find out if it’s a red balloon
in your hair and if I snaked
my smile around you, would
you be hooked?
On the fourth day, you had me
Julietted to the mantelpiece,
a thorn in my hand crying,
“Ron, Romeo, Rhododendron
hippie boy, where are you, I so miss you
and your charm, won’t you twirl
me into your arms,” you had me
rhyming like a court jester.
By the seventh day, I had tied myself
to the hull of a boat, I was going to
keelhaul myself, except I didn’t know slash
still don’t know what keelhauling is
so I built a raft out of
dead lettuce trees, I was floating out but you
roped me in.
The eighth day I was Hannukah-ed.
You put me in a window and I burned bright
until there was nothing left
in me and, when I went out, it was another
period of weekends before I could
light up.
Lit up now, it’s like no time
has passed and I’m Julietted tight
to this signal tower, singing,
“Relic, Remake, Rhododendron boy, please come
and bring me down.”