if i woke up one day
and we were made of water
you and me
and everyone and
everything,
if we were all just liquid that held its form
if we died in a splash and were born in a storm,
held in place by a force (that didn’t conform
to any scientific or common-sense norm)
that held the water
in a human shape
and never ever spilled;

if liquid and gas were all that existed
if instead of crying we just kind of misted
from liquid eyes down liquid cheeks,
drove in liquid cars down liquid streets,
sat at liquid tables with liquid seats
slept in liquid beds
with liquid sheets
walked through liquid forests with liquid trees
and liquid leaves that fell
on liquid grass;

if it were liquid knees we had to bend
watery letters to stamp and send
fluid hearts to break and mend
a solution of time to save and spend
and not for out lives
could we comprehend
the meaning of words like “shatter”
and “solidify”;

if i woke up in a world like that
i’d run the 12.3 miles
to your flat
and open the door
like a hurricane
and throw my liquid arms around you
like a safety blanket or a scarf or
like some kind of human sweater
or something

i don’t know
i just really want to feel
our internal oceans
move together.

you’re not close enough
i’m tired of solid touch
i want to be everywhere
i want to encompass you
like a river i want our skin
to meld and mix
like food dye
to create a new color
just for you and me.
i want to be
forever changed
in every place
you touch.