BECAUSE YOU REMIND ME OF SOMEONE I’VE NEVER MET Maxwell Levy
St. Lawrence University
For you, I walk on water backwards with my shoes lit on fire during a tornado that just tried to steal the Mona Lisa on the first Tuesday of November. For you, I make a song out of a Rubik’s cube in tune with the Beatles saxophones’ harmonic melody which is now featured in an ASPCA commercial. For you, I crash the car that I don’t have into a dandelion while I am drunk off of the last strawberry pudding that I ate with a fork at the cafeteria during the lunch lady’s office hours. For you, I pour magnesium nitrate on my face so your eyes don’t make my chest bleed when I see your incredible lips glow red like a rose from the Western Coast of New York City. For you, I dig a hole inside of my heart until there is no more coffee left for anyone to buy at Dunkin’ Donuts when your last one-night stand is vomiting profusely before his 8 AM class. I could love you like a dove without a pair of wings still trying to fly off north during the first sandstorm of the winter season.