I don’t have time for this,
this magic moment,
surprising it’s
soft
and lost in the afterglow.
It was never
about the act,
the swale,
the tongue,
the improvising;
this was always
an artifact,
proof of our civilization.
Come to me.
Lay next to me.
Stare at the sky,
decoding the clouds
and swift in revenant.
I light up
like a neon sign
when you flick my switch
and drip down my skin.
Abandon
all hope
and grip the steel again;
there’s no alternative.
We are adrift
and in the absence of law,
there is you
and me
and the aftermath.
Peaking at the crescendo.
-HG
