He Fancies

I was scolded for littering an orange peel. I and this couch and an iguana melt. I am longing for things to be more than real. She blushes like a child in an autumn fog. She bleats to scare winter from the ridge of her nostrils. She grows like a berrypatch in moonlight, after the thaw. He is my friend’s iguana there. He looks comfy on the couch. He only wants to feel good.