...I get all smooshy with the physics
of metaphor and the poetic license
of public admission.
Sifting through your letters.
Reading between your lines.
Wondering if I translated
into any of four other languages
that you might be saying something
else, something like...
Yeah. That's the one.
Right there. Found you.
Oh baby, you turn me inside out
and upside down
'til I don't know quite why
you're there
and I'm here.
When you... punctuate... a glance
and it slides over me like hot
shower spray
or the first spring sunshine
heating my cheeks after months
of crisp cold.
I'm blushing.
But you didn't mean it.
LOL OMGosh, baby, right? ;)
I just squint my eyes and
grin a little bit
tell myself with a whisper
that's it's my imagination.
I mean, don't worry, honey:
I got the memo.
So it must just be... you know...
not *that*...
Or maybe I'm just seeing outside
of time and space
to another person and place
someone standing in my arms
gazing into my eyes, saying:
"I feel sorry for Kitehead..."
Yeah.
Head in the clouds.
Dreaming VR dreams.
"Must just be lonely."
Yeah. That's it. Lonely.
How 'bout we test that theory, darling?
How 'bout we do the math
together.
I don't think it adds up
cuz when you divide it down
unwrapping these layers
I'm still in love with you.
I think the simple truth is
It just comes in handy...
being paranormal and all.
