Two palm trees, tall, stand beautiful, The background a pure blue, not a single cloud to tarnish it, The two almost of equal height, with similar crowns, A symmetry and order, it feels good, But there’s something off, Something slightly frustrating, I notice they’re not entirely straight. Then I hear myself think straight And I start thinking of you and me and our love, And I find another kind of beauty in these two trees, A spaciousness and softness unnoticed till now, Just as they stand here, queer, And I wonder if completely straight palms exist at all.