103/365 : more than dogs

I swear in this town tulips are like trumpets 
and god is a marching band you thought would never come 
after a dark uncertain winter 

The wind is blowing steady across the yard 
carrying dandy lion dreams, 
kissing daisies at my feet, 
ready to meet the spark 
of your heart and make fire together.

But there's a dangerous saturation in the air
that doesn't care the season
it's dream is to be the wet blanket to our flame
to have us believe that we are alone
inside our phones and our digitized homes,
our love starvation and our heart's deep craving 
to be known
to be tasted 
to be bit into and torn away at like a hearty loaf of campangnolo 
something you can actually hold and devour
You must be the only one so disempowered 
and distant, it says
You must be the only one trying to write poems about it
You must be the only one twiddling your thumbs
waiting for someone to save you

But It's not true.
We're all waiting like dogs for our owners 
to come home and take us out for a run
This is what makes us the same thread of insanity

But the time for crazy is up.

In this town there are doggie doors for all of us
and crawl we must
down on our knees
where we can remember how it feels
to touch our tininess
where we can come alive inside of it
instead of die because of it
where we can come alive together
like tulips burst into a bright blue sky
or better 

like children crawling under tables
collecting fallen crayons 
making fairytales out of hairy legs
and forts out of table cloths
kissing booths out of closets
and cash registers out of shoe boxes
friends out of flowers and
trumpets out of cucumbers

We must remember the wonder
that is not afraid to build magic
now that we are old and grown and able
now that we are bigger than the table
we must not fear feasting upon it
we must ask ourselves
what do i want to feast on?
who do i want to feast with?
what will i bring to our supper
to our salvation
to our hunger
what will i till and labor for 
because i love it
because i love it
because i love it
what will i plant that will bloom in our garden
what is my instrument?
what is my sound?
what is my cry?
where is your shoulder? 
what do i desire?
can i let myself taste pleasure?
can we taste each other this time around?
feet bare in the ground, marching
knowing that we are more than dogs