Breaking the Seal

The plot, the plot!"
L. Quidroe, reviewing a book on Amazon.com

We leave lids loose,
wait for the accidental spill over onto
carpet and hardwood and other such things
meant for walking.
Feet planted,
knees soften.

With oil paints and mocha
you fill my whims. Pollack style
we lean over rain-drop lily pools,
draw meaning from rippled rings.

Could it be you?
The answer always
gets shaken to the top.
Could it be you? The one
to kiss blue waters without
disturbing the image, the one
to make me believe in stray voltage
and steel desk magic?

As always the answer rises, highly unlikely.
But why not? Even if only for the thrill of
gooseflesh shoulders as strong hands
clamp wrists, open fingers. Tonight
we leave lids on tabletops, wait.