She fell out of the crop dusting plane--
chemicals may, in fact, have had something to do with it.
She was certainly high.
She may have been lit.
She threw herself, a bouquet, at the world.
Here comes a blossom,
a real live flesh and blood
There were no stairs.
Had there been, she could have done her best deb walk,
and from sky
Okay, so it was me, on my way down from wing-walking of an afternoon.
I thought I saw you below me, among the vines,
eating a tomato and reading Whitman.
It could have been you.
It could have been chemistry
or my eyes playing tricks.
Anyway, every time I breathe,
my blood turns from moody jay to calling cardinal.
That is why I had to come and kiss you, honey,
even if I had to fall.