out of all the billions
which have ever existed,
I wrote these words
only for you.
The consequences of this
are swift
and automatic;
right now, you
are not you;
You are a vestibule,
a gateway, an antechamber;
and I
am in love
with the whites of your eyes
for receiving,
and holding,
and reflecting these letters.
For it's true—
when our souls flutter out
past their parts, past their matter
love
is the only reaction
that is possible.
Maybe transmission
sparks enough
for understanding;
maybe
this world
isn't so awful.
