I can see every spark
the way they ride and collide
along the thin filaments of air
that hang between us

god, they're bright
make my eyes wide,
my heart beat fast,
like nervous tapping toes
clattering against the sunk skin
hung across my bones.

these minute electrical bridges
are instant inertia from our kinetic desires
and when distance makes them sink
into stone and asphalt, short-wave
feeling,
I wonder if you're still
sending sparks up,
still surviving,
a man on a crowded island
signaling for me
telling me in short bursts
of silent sparking space
that you're ready.
You want me to be standing
on the same shore,
and
all I need to do is
follow the trail of wispy white
words
that seem to snap and crackle
like ghost whispers
when we smile.