falling asleep on a capless green pen

 I heard a story that if you fall asleep on top of a green pen
You become what would have been drawn with it. The ink that
Your skin absorbs becomes the stem of a flower, the back of a rose bush,
A half-finished coloring book page of the bottom of the ocean.
Eyelashes become butterfly antennae and fingers asparagus stalks,
The bottoms of your feet the grass that frames a landscape,
Your eyes Granny Smith apples. If only your tongue was a lime,
Then kissing you wouldn’t be so sweet. Your dry elbows would 
Become the alligators you compare them to, your bangs basil leaves
And bamboo. And the words, some so big they wouldn’t fit
On a poster board, some a signature on the bottom right of you.