I check at my trusty iWatch, such a tiny window of time
and then it’s go, so I scramble up this wall for you
a full assault on your father’s fruit and flower vault
gardener of neighborhood legend he, and I leap in
but stop, tempted by a ruby cluster of cherry tomatoes
dripping from some crazy heirloom plant, like a living sculpture
oh man, the fruit so sweet, the taste some kind of complex
intertwining steamy love story plot, I could write — oh, with you
but wow, look at these mangoes, pure drops of gold, I tell you
weighing their branches to the ground, ripe for picking, oh geez
the flavor so rich, the juice flowing down my chin, one of many
guarded secrets in this garden to discover, locked up tight — like you
dammit, if I miss my chance with you, about time, can I run it down
bring it back, or maybe just strangle it to a stop for me and you