in
tox
i
cat
ion;

but not the kind where, in our
drunken staggering, i taste the remnants
of spiced rum clinging to your
lips;

instead, the kind where
the molecules that make up our every
parts come together, static
electricity

combining vision and
attraction, making me yearn for any
amount of time i could have,
wrapped

in your arms, lips to
sober/not sober/halfway sober lips,
not caring about the specifics
because

you are like a series
of fireworks, exploding brilliantly in
the sky, and i am like
the

child, completely
enthralled, mouth wide open, wondering
how it's possible
that

so many things
could mesh together and make such a
perfect picture
of

such a mortal
being.