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Lullabying It Tonight

By Amanda V. Ice

I want to kiss the belly of a Buddha and dance through babies dreams laughing them to sleep, with time and those hours locked tight in my fist.

I’d wish to have Kerouac through my veins, Hepburn in my spine, Garcia my soul, and Dylan on my lips.

I’d swim in warm gardenia bathtubs and wear footy pajamas
with a peanut butter stuck mouth and honey suckle tears.

I’d lay in hammocks all day with you,
reading,
trying a little tenderness,
wrapped up tightly in golden delicious, warm and soft.

I’d paint every piece of it.
I’d smile through the stars,
waving as they lit it up for you to see.

And I’d laugh forever riding on bicycle baskets with nowhere to go, running naked through those bed times.

And I would read out loud for hours when there were none to go by, drinking Gatsby, and gin and tonics. Big banding it, with bow ties soft white lights, lakeside.

I’d skip rocks and juggle oranges,
and smile through  and through.
Through child like innocence
and premature wisdom

laughing at a fist full of no’s
Dancing this lullaby through you.