It’s just
infatuation,
the stirring of
pheromones,
like a potion
of witch’s brew
on Hallows' Eve,
a frog’s eye
here, a snake’s tongue
there,
animalistic
chemistry
with its drive to
procreate,
spawn a billion
yous in order to
fill up empty space.
And do you think
that you’re the first?
That no one else
has felt like this
before?
Look again—
there are chimeras
all around us:
the song of
flock and feather,
wrens that flit
in tender unison,
the child
with her face
upon the glass,
the seduction
of the pupils
from a Persian,
its endless tufts
of fur,
and there—
between the twinkling
blink of eyes,
a zig-zag
so electric
from the sky,
carving its initials
into the bark of
a swelling tree,
marking as forever
what likely lasts a year ;
light so swift
and searing
you believe that
it's in love.
Andreas Gripp
October 20, 2024
RF Image
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