This was it:
The broken seat,
the precipitous stairs,
the heads of sleepy metal beasts mounted on the wall
places that felt full but were empty.
We mingled brain stems, exchanged heads.
I traded my hypothalamus for your frontal lobe.
Moths un-attracted to light,
we flickered in the dark,
weightless yet burdened-
this dirigible in my chest
Alone in a crowd you whisper
What if?
What if….