i could get used to this

taking flight - up and away
into the sky - the vast blue
swimming in pools of clouds
where glorious rays pierce
through; of everlasting light
that blinds.

turbulence is but
a tumble through the clouds
watching snowflakes form
against my window pane.
maybe i've come to terms
with death.
yet, i'm not ready to meet
my maker.

meet an accidental stranger
for a conversation
just about anything
or watch that movie
or listen to some jazz
on my journey to you
i could get used to.

You.
(in your Ben Shermans)
the darkest rooms
where dreams are weaved
and your silhoutte
in deep thought
i could get used to.

Me.
still in love with you.
i could get used to this.

sincerely yours
-letters to you - on a napkin - aboard the plane - back home -

and in all self-indulgent truth ...

i could get used to
excessive shopping
and the imaginary life
of a tai tai
picking out pretty dresses
of flowery prints and polka dots
and the occasional insane thought
of walking into a bikini store
on a cold winter's day.

i could get used to that friendly face.
or the over-populating species of birds
making eerie hoots and caws.