i sink in the sound
of my thundering blood, rushing
in my ears, flushing
to my cheeks—why?
what simple words from your lips
were given power unparalleled
to command the blood in my veins?
they draw forth a cackle, unbidden
(a laugh?)
and i hardly have time to be mortified
amid a sea of elation.
my eyes and ears act with
wills of their own,
the former entranced by your lips,
the latter hanging on every word that floats
thence, to their patient wonderment.
i try on a knowledgeable smile,
not to betray my flustered state,
as if i am at all in control of myself around you.
i dare not attempt a sentence
(or mere coherence)—
for the present, i am content
to watch your lips and listen to their
simple words.