If one could sell feelings inside of glass bottles,
I would spend the excess fat in my bank account
buying the hit of humidity which encases us both
immediately after flying into a warmer climate.
This would be a highly reckless purchase, however,
as the very purpose of such suffocation pleasure
is only a by-product of our time spent together
cooling off in hotel sanctuaries, museum air-con
and the shade of a hilltop tree within a cemetery;
none of which could ever be contained
in the bottle.