I understand flavor, and it charges my bones like batteries
merengue drums like my sensual soul
I want to spin across the room and drink in the orange lights
the dazzling cherry gin and juice in your dark hands
and I want you to take me to heaven
is it ok that I hold it all in?
that I don’t like to stand up and I don’t like their eyes
scanning me like their fast thoughts?
is it ok that it’s hard for me
to block every inhibition from my sporadic spirit?
sometimes I forget the music and hear only shadows,
and night, and I’ll want to be alone,
cocooned in a pressureless atmosphere,
no complicated voices,
only starry solitude. flavor filling up my soul
when I can enjoy it without fear,
then we can truly dance-
us, introverted bats and lava lamps alive with
moonlight and kisses and rocks and open air