yellow

I'd say I want to be a smile
as yellow as wildflowers by the highway,
love, but I already am.
 
On the way to your shambling, perfect city
of color,
I saw them nodding  
at my grin, which was
hard to put down on a drive like this -
saw them waving to me
like a sibling
of the same shade.
Up to my little neck
it's green, and new, and sucking in  
everything there ever was
to get from the ground and the sun -
everything there ever was
in your words that cut
like the sharp shadows
that dance around our gentle roots.
You are simple as warming air,
springtime lifeblood.
 
When we get to my chin
the yellow begins.
My teeth tell joy,
my dimples whisper bliss.
 
There lies
the color
I sing to passing eyes.
 
Those big black tires
rush past us flowers,
almost enough to blow us down
but not quite -
we live by just surviving,
offering pieces of joy
to the people speeding,
speeding by.
 
I wink to the perfect, yellow highway ditch
on my way to another Sunday warming your chapel.
I'll come,
fast
and more than once
and you best believe  
I'm going to wake those bricks  
with color and heat.
 
 I couldn't quit my growing
or my going
if I wanted to.
Especially knowing
the end of this road
cradles you.