On the Verge of a Life-Long Conversation

A storm, a mind brought to snow globe capacity with dust to shake glittering, glittering 'till it falls and settles too gently Never satisfied with objects which let you look but not touch their innards I always sought to pry such things open Now, your mind, this twirl of blown explosion to be shaken to still elates me to action A loose tooth for a tongue A candle flame to dried wax That one repeating song that stays with you all day A watermelon after the crack in half pink juice and pearly black seeds the reward or a teasing snow globe to uncork with the edge of a finger nail Perhaps I should have gone into psychology with this never ending urge to pick and pry wonder, wonder, wonder why and be satisfied quite never What ever the background, the reasons, the motivation I ask you: Do you have the rest of your life to expound with me in conversation?