Magnolia trees bloom in air you pass through,
a sidelong glance of manicured flowers
pausing briefly on the road to summer.
It’s like your a travel brochure for France
Our thumb-flickered world band radio
sings among the lemon grove tablecloth.
It squeezes good tendencies from me
you are the cause célèbre of our love life.
If I could package and sell this moment
I’d use skinny little crystal bottles
from that tourist trap island off venice
because customers might get too happy
Is it such a ridiculous notion
to make a million from our love potion?
Copyright 2015 by Boinkaz