I wonder what’s your address.

 

You wonder whether I’ll address

that wonder sometimes makes a mess.

 

Addressing such, I do confess

such feelings

so that we’ll access

the wonders lying in your dress.

 

With wonder, you address

my lack of  nonsense, I’m impressed,

but wonder why you’re getting dressed.

 

You address my wonder and access

your wonder at my thought process

dressing down my discontent.

 

You see me wonder who you are

and what you thought, drunk in that bar.

 

I access your wonder from afar

like my thoughts are in a tiny jar

and wonder if these inner thoughts

address your wonder and its costs.

 

So tell me what you think of me.

Do you wonder who I'll be.

 

I wonder why you're so dumbfounded

when earlier you seemed so grounded.

 

My thoughts are lost in wonder now

about the note I thought somehow

you gave me with your address on it.

 

What I thought would be your address

is the bar, the joke's on me

at least it ends my fantasy.