Hyperbole for Her             A. J. Heskett 

In your eyes I see well springs of the possible
a wave, life washing me past the dull and dismal.
Laughing at the cynical and wise in the comedy of being,
it’s like gravity knowing you, it makes sense of up and down.

Somewhere there is a cactus saddle waiting to be ridden
for you I’d leap around naked strapped in tight with sticky chaps
on a red eyed bull knowing this ride is a shadow of the power of you.

Oh yes, you move me, like Greyhound, honey.

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