I like you.

a tower of orange books, hundreds of them,
leaning in the breeze, leaning towards me,
i try to climb it, to reach the sun but then those books
topple down, collapse and i'm sliding down a cascade
of silver coins. flailing, desperate, i'm in mid-air,
than suddenly sailing, floating, incomprehensible.
it's not making sense, i know. but there are not words
that i can find in the hoard to describe this feeling.
this longing, for something, i can't even put a name to it.
i'm content and at the same time, i want something else.
not something instead of what i have, but something as well as what i have now.
is that selfish?
i don't know.
all i can do is wait, and see what the tide washes up.