I want you to feel the vibrancy of THIS moment,
and sure, I may not be cogent,
but that does not detract from the potent, the soul net,
of these stitched together thoughts.
It may be the alcohol but my skin is caught,
hooked on your bait.
Thus we are both fish and fishermen,
I with my sinewy net,
you with that lascivious hook
and it takes no amounts of books
to know that these heavy-lidded looks
are magnetized. We do not tantalize no,
that was left at the sober door.
Sober clothes hit the sober floor.
So too did this post hoc poem,
flown from my grip as soon as you gripped my gaze
leveled those earth eyes through my fog haze.
And then we were fish, slippery and wet,
caught in each others’ snares and nets,
skin prickled from hooks, looks, feverish stares,
until collapsing we gasped for air.
The air – it is vibrating. Humming between us.
Fish and fishermen shimmer into blackness.