body

electrical nerves
pulse bits of light through atoms.
i, fleshy robot.

in the far future
we are klingons or vulcans.
now we be humans.

sweet the taste of love
bursting like little cherries
on your soft red lips.

muscles tight as twine.
exercise my true maestro.
my bow bent, untuned.

jack kerouac
died from too much booze.
if only he’d chosen.

there is a moment
when time bends within my mind.
sneaking from behind.