Paper Plane For The Jealous Lover Poem by Norman F. Santos

If I can ride the cardboard box again
Like a spurious old red Volkswagen
Reckoning when I was child escaping the interstate
Of the buoyed city in my bed that undulates
I would bloat my bag with your photographs
And jarred lucid intervals in case of an arbitrary lapse
And I will probe to find a hill beneath a cliff
Sequestered from the alluring and flagging whiff
Of a blossoming summer, from there I’ll built a hovel
Tilling my vault, truncating my veins, come and drag a shovel!
I’ll build the porticos with your lacquer portraits
And in the night it will be a lighthouse to coruscate
Vivid flashbacks from the marred malaise
And toil to build an incendiary garden of fireflies
Because they remind me of the lackluster star lights
That had concatenated and knotted our eyes
And our souls; my own, still asphyxiating in your ties
And when the lustrous pangs of compulsion strikes
Like a thief in the silent night, oh, salient jealousy hikes
My barricades, then I shall build myself a paper plane
And leave for the gridlock land and let the fire to wane
From the graze of the grass; plush and white
And the mantling skies filled with unfettered kites
Serendipity, collapse on me
Serendipity, incarcerate me.