In between my overuse of the word ” and” and everyone’s attempt to decipher the diagrams on the back of the modems,
modeled, molded and blended to resemble the sun, or something in the sky anyways .
Some unplugged star,
waiting to be built, or to explode and then die , or a variation thereof;
Whose cord is so tangled into a knot that no electricity could ever pass through,
to release that hum that we all want to feel, to trip over it,
but we catch ourselves, and wait still
for it to bleed some momentum,
to slip through and ELECTRIFY SOMETHING.
STRIKE ANYTHING.
To untangle that same knot and feel the subsequent slow burn on your hands,
dripping off your wrist, running downhill
leaving rings behind ,
allowing you to run alongside it.
Finally aligned with fire and electricity,
if only briefly,
legs stretched further than the passing currents, with each passing current
parallel with it, and the other currents now,
panting , and sobbing
panting, and sobbing,
coming to to a stop, where it all evens out,
the end of a slope, or a line ,
if only briefly.
.
I feel this
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