Catastrophe practice

I wanted to tell you:
Your legs remind me of
clappers in a bell.

Green knit socks
climb like vines from your
black buckle shoes.

Bells ease wordless yearning,
vines climb outside my mind.

The brutal truths
refract swimmingly
through you.

Have you risen above
all the earthly things
that have dragged me down?
Everything worthwhile
is on the other side.

You are as charged as
two drunken cars
inches away on the Interstate.

I wanted to tell you:
Your legs remind me of
clappers in a bell.

Bells harmonize the
twelve-tone cuckoos
in my mind.

Can't you see:
I'm taking chances