Graduation Plate

Come on, fashion mama
Be my enchilada
I’d like a bite, well… maybe more
I’d like to have the same front door

We will watch our days grow
Be my sweet potato
I’ll pick you up, well… maybe more
We’ll stay up laughing, late, for sure

What if I said
Stay
Don’t leave
I’d like to take you home with me

It’d all be too clear
Something’s so bothersome ‘bout clarity
Incoming flat tire
And issuancy
You know I’d stay down there

Come here, fragile red ant
Be my sautéed eggplant
I’d like a taste, well… maybe more
I’d like to take you out for sure

Come on boxer, hit me
Be my puréed chickpea
I’ll watch you bounce, well… maybe more
I’d like to be with you, and snore