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"I Dream of Betsy"
By: Keith Fuchs
I Dream of Betsy,
And her long dark hair.
Smothering my nose and mouth, as we sleep cloaked
In each other's arms.
This is no occult script,
I can hear quaint exhalations from the delicate estuary of her facade,
They are the narrowest gates to the Empyrean Province.
I feel the closest proximity to Father God,
Because I am holding one of his heavenly creatures.
The expansion of her chest when she breathes,
Presses her back closer to me.
Prompting my synapses to snap at a pace, incalculable.
I am submerged in dopamine and norepinephrine.
A solution of crystalline chlorine, lukewarm; beyond soluble.
Melodic rapture fills me, it is cheeky and palatable.
My circulation in its furthest extremities, are impeccably palpable.
She is so exquisite, sweet and charitable.
Organs and violins hum their arias
Harmonizing with my souls' hosannas.
A canticle layered and dextrous, with symphony and balance.
Betsy sweeps me off my feet, swiftly.
She is the imperial eagle and I 'm a fish out of water dangling in her talons.
She is more potent than marijuana
And more exhilarating than cocaine.
I don't require a spliff of piff.
I am delirious from one kiss from her lips.
One hit of her charms, shakes my hips.
The pit is of the darkest pitch,
With the twinkling rainbow light of polyester lamps
and neon colored balls of lava cascade, a globular eclipse.
Betsy...well she is precisely this.
A flurry of tapestries and kaleidoscopes,
In any abysmal abyss.
She's psychedelic and furious mixed.
She is the most decorated and bodacious.
Fuchsia, purple, cobalt, chestnut cherry and vanilla.
A cornucopia of lustrous tinge
A chromatic pigmentation of unrelenting intensity.
When she runs her nails again my skin, I cringe frantically.
Another injection of the drug,
Bountiful supplies emit from her eyes.
I may die from ecstasy,
An overdose of love.
I will hold her tight and never let go.
Engulfed in a blizzard of her perfume
Which gently falls on to my shoulders like flakes of snow.
Just so you know, I love her shoulders and their powdery complexion.
She is demode and vogue with a je ne se qua
A vintage beauty, dangerous and viperous.
She is like a cobra but she is also the mongoose
I will toss any garment of mine over any wet surface
To insure she would not slip, that is my sole purpose.
She is the yin and yang that has captured my heart.
Retained in a vice grip.
Just as she remains, embraced in my arms.
My atria and ventricles maintain their faulty rhythm.
They forever flutter and skip
From the first time, I touched her skin and pecked her lips.
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Copyright 2014, Keith Fuchs all rights reserved. No portion of this poem may be transmitted or duplicated without written and authorized consent of author.
