I prefer ratifying moments where I can shoot up electrifying instances up into and through my veins, adrenalin pumping through every anticipating capillary, muscle, and organ that makes up five-foot-four-me;
Where I can catch an icy breath that’s my own from a foreign cloud that I can just manage to reach through a moon-man jump;
Ratifying moments that can shake my uneven foundations and crumble me to my barely existing feet: speechless, judgeless;
So ratifying—
And I mean second-definition-of-the-word-ratifying, ‘cause I looked that word up—
That I forget who you are, but still remember who I am,
‘Cause it’s all about me; me learning and feeling and experiencing something noteworthy, or waste-a-breath-worthy, or memory-capacity-filling-worthy
Because that’s the mission of this undirected life that we should be programmed to crave, created to hunt;
Like a mottled snow leopard gliding silently above winter’s frigid, glistening skin,
Amber eyes trained in on a seemingly innocent, though no more less of a necessity, hare that is the skittishness of life somewhat unwilling to present to you its lesson

I prefer producing and directing my own films that only I can see:
Visions dancing foxtrots and sock-hops across my eyes, stealing the spotlight with improvised pirouettes from what I should be presently watching;
Where I daydream, listless, while you walk on with your weathered high-tops or newly-shined oxfords because you don’t know or even realize that I am having a genius-moment

Ordinarily, you are not stitched into my art
Because I weave faceless faces—unidentified and unidentifiable—into a storyline I create on the spot because, for some reason, I got inspired right then and there
And in this instance, I see thin sheets of rain under a gentle gravity’s influence
Kissing the grey sidewalk like a passionate lover
Ecstasy emanating off each of them in graceful rivulets
And I see a girl at the edge a quiet street intersection
Looking at a glowing crosswalk sign
Holding a red umbrella
Or maybe a yellow one
And normally, that would be it—short scenes caressing my hungry mind
But this time, you are there;
You are there on the other side of the street—
Rain interlacing with your beautiful dark hair and thick eyelashes and slightly parted lips
Because you have no red or yellow umbrella—
Looking at the girl
And she doesn’t walk forward when the white hand screams “Go!”
You do
You do
And you run across the empty street like you couldn’t possibly run faster
Like time is holding you back
Like waves are pulling you back
Like a swing swaying to and from and to… and from…
And you pull her up into a Hollywood embrace
Twirling her around like two eagles spiraling down, down, down in a dance of love
Because yes!
This is a poem about love! And togetherness. And the wonder of sharing.
Because I don’t see faceless faces; I see you and me under that orange umbrella
While the rain kisses the sidewalk
And you kiss me with every collected electrifying instance and racing adrenalin you have ever felt before;
Our molding-into-one shooting up into and through our veins;
Every capillary, muscle, and organ ready to explode from too many intakes of foreign icy breaths
But they are our own
And they are noteworthy, and worth-a-breath-worthy, and memory-capacity-filling-worthy

I prefer my own moments—ratifying
But you have apparently branded your beautiful mark onto the side of my head—
Somehow pursued me like a mottled snow leopard with your ambitious amber eyes
And now I am yours
And we share this ratifying moment together