I'm just a little person (Peroni)

I used to carry around a ship that was built inside me. I could not get it out. And then I met you. But even then, sometime later there was a germination of sorts. I achieved the extraordinary ability to dismantle my stowaway, plank by plank, and carry it out to the water-hot streets; and to the farms of spit and smoke; and to the cigarette-sandwich-eating burlap-bodies on corners whose hands are pushed into last pockets; and to frost-bitten cars in lonely lots where some tears stream for a reason or for none; and to a cliché we’ve seen once or twice, shook hands with or wanted to make love to. My greenhouse gas personality dissipates; the sun beams touch my blues and greens and browns; the radiation is a gorgeous and miraculous feat. The buoyancy of a blink is the tick and the tock. 

But shivering on the porch of the little dipper: thinking on a myth. 

"Somewhere, maybe someday. Maybe somewhere far away...Let's have some fun."

Happy New Year