Sometimes when walking
or driving or sitting in a chair,
I thrill to see some words of yours
float through the air—as if
a cartoon thought bubble
cut loose from your thoughts
filled with calibri sweetnesses
and times-new-roman puns—
and I pluck the words
from the sky and wrap them
around my wrist. They bob
above me like a helium balloon—
sometimes I almost believe
could carry me away.