You gave me a cup of the ocean
And it tasted like sand between my teeth
because my mouth was dry
You can’t get drunk on water
Because you don’t drink that much
But whenever you put a cup of wine to your lips I put
My hand on the couch
cushion between us
there’s too many molecules between us
The electric blue corduroy of your pants radiates heat
Conduction convection
I bake my hand on the couch
Cushion between us
I take a sip of my cup of water
Your water that tastes like sand
Between my teeth
Sits my tongue
Fat, too big
Loose
Loose tongues might reveal so my mouth is shut
Except for my lips
Which are drinking from the cup
Of water from the ocean from the torrential rains from the runoff from the lakes of your hometown Traced all the way back to your lips
This water molecule from your lips to my lips like a k—
Like my hand on the couch
Cushion between us
Softening the joints between our words it’s easy
To talk to you
The intersection from your ideas to mine
Smoothened by the cartilage in
your arms that encircle
Absorbing the sound waves
Absorbing my hand on the couch
Cushion between us
Absorbing the water droplets slipping from the edges of my cup
As I watch you watch her
