So many conversations build up
In the ether;
Building tension, but my affection is a
Turtle.

I want to be solemn and heavy, but
I shall force lightness upon myself; I shall
Be funny and frothy, and with my words
I shall chip away at your shell,
and live
From midnight conversation to midnight conversation,
And every night more music shall pour out
and dance
In the spaces between us, and perhaps eventually
Your shell shall wear down, and then
And then
I shall touch you.

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Nucleus accumbens –

Down my spine

Down the veins of my right arm

Down to you.

This touch –

A feather tickling a hole into a corner of my

Brain;

Oh.

Oh would it that I could

Capture one or two of these tumbling, fumbling

Pleasure crystals and save them for

A moonless day,

When the lack of a person streams in through

The blind-ed windows, and

When my midnight coffee foxtrots

With my restless tongue,

And the smell of wetness just won’t go away.

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