verbal picture

i think, if i could be any book,
i'd be a dictionary. you'd read me,
always -- i'd be an oxford dictionary,
of course. (the best kind, you said to
me) and then i could make you words,
so that there's finally a word for the 1000
shades of blue in your forget-me eyes. so
that there's finally a word for the little half-
sigh laugh you give when you're amused.
so that there's a word out there, just for you.

if i was a dictionary, i'd make sure that you
could be [captured] on paper, scribbled on
scrap paper and stuffed in squishy pockets,
typed out in a million fonts across mac and
window screens, traced lovingly by frosty
fingers on glistening glass; you're forever.

but i'm not; i'm human and all these sighed
syllables, similes and sibilant sentences are
frag me n ted and just kind of die; there's just
not ever really enough words to take your
verbal picture, literally.