A missing ingredient

the way you love(d) reminds me of being seventeen
pedaling ’round the estate with no brakes
playing basketball on concrete;

the way you mash bananas and mix the oats
add an unmeasured pinch of baking soda
and convince me of your recipe;

the way you pause and point at wildflowers and weeds
you tell me i’m the lavender flower between the trees
and you’re the chrysanthemums in the leaves;

and I’m convinced that if my palette could distinguish between
honey and syrup, if i could rake this wild field in my chest,
I could have loved you sweetly (too), like I was seventeen.