Meatboats
As I ran my fingers at last over her soft paleness, as if still in the
fantasy of all these months as her neighbor across the hall, the
scalpel edge of my yearning was honed by desire to the very atoms in my
skin touching the very atoms in her skin, it felt - to what remained of
me - like elephant skin under an electronic mindoscope, then it went
from there to subatomic and I was pouring an ocean of flesh – a living
tsunami – upon her catastrophically rocky horizon even as our planets
were congealing into distinctness in discrete realms of our galaxies,
we really have no idea of what we're sensing in the moments to moments
we flow through our lives like meatboats I realized as I kissed her in
milky ways of lip cells colliding, two hearts racing like comets
accelerating toward each other from the fearful edges of pitiably
imagined universes about to merge in what is known of love…
