Magnetism

It took me a while to understand. Those things love to come poke my head in various ways. Delightfully visual, colorful, almost surrealist, and ambiguous. Last time my alternate universe was contracted in a squared room with dark brown-sugar wooden floor. Impeccably waxed. Maybe that was why two white seals defy gravity to live comfortably on magnetic board on the wall. Refugees from the north pole maybe. More likely, the magnetic north pole. It is all about magnetism after all. And I felt it. You, your naked back and waved hair, your hand. We seemed to run out of that squared room, run from people and waxed floors… then I woke up. That morning draped itself in simple words; we touch each other’s lips with our fingers, each other’s neck, and trachea. I can still see, frame by frame, your uncovered blade bone, your shoulder, but my senses cannot remember your touch, neither the texture of your skin. We touch various things having abstract names, but what I cannot touch in either way yet is me. And is you.

Photo: http://ntikhomirov.500px.com/