Of Red Scarves and Time Moves Slowly

Back again, and feeling in quite the poetic mood. Phrases for poems have been entering my realm of consciousness for several days now. Since Saturday night, I believe, when I looked at the maraschino cherry in my Shirley Temple and thought about how red it was, and how most people don't actually ever eat them, but I like them.
What I want to know is: Does anyone actually agree with me?
In fact, here's the poem that stemmed from that thought. It doesn't have much to do with maraschino cherries, but that's to be expected.
A bright red scarf,
Wrapped boldly around her neck on even a
Not-so-cold winter day
A difference.
As red as...
Those maraschino cherries no one actually eats
But I like them
Stands out
A dove among pigeons
Pushing and scwabbling for scattered seeds
But the dove knows better
Flies
Waits
Like a boldly printed durag in an
Office Building (with a capital B)
Merits skeptical eyes from suit-wearing businesswomen
Chattering on silver phones
While the durag covers
Hamburger headphones
Silver cellphones
Hamburger headphones
The difference among them
"People fascinate me"
-(Andy) (Warhol)
People incapable of BEING fascinated
Strut down streets
They are baggy-jeaned teenagers
And
They are sweater-setted soccermoms
They
Don't
They don't stand out
It's you,
Red scarf, durag, dove
Who fascinates
And is fascinated
You are The Difference

There. I love these poetry-inspiring thoughts going through my head. I'd always been bad at coming up for the initial ideas for poetry. Once I had an idea, the words and phrases were easy, but I could never come up with an idea. Now it's just coming naturally.
I hope this lasts.
People say that a lot, though, don't they? They hope that lots of things last. They hope that their youth lasts. They hope that beauty lasts.
Less dramatically, they hope that this day with their long-distance boyfriend lasts. They hope that this last spoonful of chocolate pudding lasts. They hope that the last two minutes of sleep before their alarm goes off lasts.
It's all about the good things lasting and the bad things going away as fast as we can manage.
See! That's what I mean by poetic thoughts. I could write a poem on that.
I'm also having thoughts that are phrases I could use, such as the one I just had, "Eating ice cream in the moonlight was the only joy he had in moonlight." I could write a poem on this.
This is making me euphoric.