Birthday Poem from 3

You are my apple sweet-baked with cheddar
in the back of the Dutch oven

You are the moon when nothing else
seems relevant or warmy

You are the pulsing soul
in the midst of an irresistable whimsy

You are eight-legged rainbow bandits
on chestnut rollerskates
and I am falling to the colors falling from those eyes

In your birthday wigwam, there are
shoes on the shelf
and all the while,
you shine like new confetti

And we're clutched in the thrust
of this four triangle linoleum
tightly wound and waiting

And all over the floor,
beer stains and crazy paper sleep
under your birthday shoes
and your toes that "meep!" for
your exciting day,
the day that makes all the windows
clench their fists and say
"Goddamnit, shes pretty."

Our girl,
the prettiest under purple light,
under the grey rain
and in the red Spanish dress;
driving home,
driving home.