Like a slap on the forehead
it hit me
once, and then
twice.
how odd!
that a turn of the cloth
may reveal
many a plain flesh underneath it
while earthly locks of hair
playfully glides across the shoulder’s meander
deserving of the second’s seconds.
alas, neon green does absolutely nothing
at least, not for the searching soul.
though it may give off a fleeting impression
a kind version of an oddly-open intimacy.
not unlike those found between close friends
and certain objects of anatomical desire.
form-wise, it exists in a non-euclidean space.
personal yet utterly undefined
uncharacteristically characterized.
with a wavelength of precisely 544 nanometres
enough to fill an entire moment
with a thoughtful glance
and such handsome wonder.