Holiday

Let me crash into your life
like an electric van covered in
cherry chocolate red velvet. I'll do the chores
in the yard and you'll watch me lift
tools that make me look shiny and new.
There will be a festival of light
when I wash my hair under your garden hose.
There, near the sparks of your becoming,
you'll put it all together and feel the groove
of summer moving through your hips.
You'll become more holy and less distracted
by the propaganda of love and its improbable agendas.
There will be days that you'll dream of these days.