I see you standing in the shower
though you’re not there.
Your mind bends the air around me
as I feel your Aphrodite fingers on my spine.
But I’m some five hundred ancient miles away…

We can talk without a phone
or internet.
But that doesn’t mean
I don’t enjoy being chocolate croissant spoiled
in your presence, even if it’s digital.
But our heart-conversations
change my soul,
like boiling mercury
oozing light from my veins.
Our minds and hearts
converse over dawn cloud kingdoms
occasionally checking our infinite labyrinth basement
that doubles as a wine cellar.
Sometimes,
our conversations don't even take place in this century.

I suspect we make scientists
scratch their heads
with our psychedelic time machine babble.