I can’t take my eyes off you, anymore than I could stand still in front of a ticket scalper holding a two-way mirror. Your eyes aren’t actually you, they stem from another dimension where everything is endlessly vivid, exciting…safe. If your eyes could, for some reason, be infused with colors of some organic matter that you drank, like the rings of Saturn in your mouth, it would probably look like that.

I don’t know how long, but it would be fast. Fast like a catnip drip or an auto chase, like driving off the two-lane highway at the speed of the wind. Fast like taking the middle turn off that freeway where I wish we’d crash into each other (1), but now the freeway splits right before us into two, we’re driving on the wrong lane, in the middle of the night, just letting the speed of thoughts take us where we’d go, and because we can.

The charging seatlessness through 5 seconds of sailing, stopping, retuning, and into the tunnel — all in a seemingly lucid, serene movement, in a trance. No shame in going back and forth in thoughts… what is done is done. Such delight. Again. Its gestures interrupted this ruthless system. You can’t stand still for too long.