My poems hide
behind big brown eyes
Like early morning
Cloudless skies

They are disguised
In the salty sweet of sea dense air
And its resonate voice
In a shell

Curtained between
the most wrong grammar
and the beautiful recreations
in the mispronuncications
in the recreation
of word play

They cache among
Collected “Je ne sais quoi”s
fashion faux pas
and of course the occasional
“Say what?”s
I never did understand Spanish

Blanketed between the sheets
of the “it’s almost love”s
and the “it’s getting there”s
and in the “it’s not quite finished”s
Let’s not forget the “Yes, Of course the homework’s done”s
When you haven’t even started

Poems hide
in the cracks of the quarks
of the imperfections
of an almost perfect day
Waiting for just one person
To closely examine
The gum on the sole of a shoe
But alas, We forget that the gum
Has a soul too