Monday, March 14, 2022


My love and I 
are like two 
synced electrons 

bound by mysterious 
quantum action

despite the infinitude 
of separating space. 

The math 
is complex,

but it happens
like this—she bends, 
and I stretch; 

she opens her mouth 
to moan during sex 

just as I take 
a huge bite 
of ham sandwich. 

Of course, we've never 
even met, 

and everything I've said is 
purely theoretical.
But I've noticed—

presumably just 
as she swaddles 
the covers around her

and takes that first drag
of a slim cigarette—

how useful 
it is to describe it 
like this, 

if to nobody else
but myself.