Movement

When your eyes flash with intelligence

And your hair gets carelessly shoved behind your ears

And something long dormant awakens

In that secret part of me I keep hidden

From the simple stupefying masses surrounding me

When a certain turn of delicate phrase

Or a sly slumbering look

Which lets me know you get it too

This absolute and utter irony of this mad maniacal farce we call existence

And the pulse of electricity

Fires across your synapses

And jumpstarts mine

Synapses Which I had resigned myself to being

Consigned to the Lot

Where all the other antiques go

To die and be buried under expectations unfulfilled

For a moment I step outside this Clay vessel which has become My anchor and my tomb

And I feel the stirrings

Of desire and recklessness

Of shocking impropriety

And I revel in the unique sensation Holding it close

For just a mere moment in uncountable time