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It’s Like You’re Trying to Waterboard Me With Honey
And I’m going to tell you everything anyway
It’s like tonight is a blank page and a blinking cursor. They say Shakespeare was a woman. They say God is, too.
It’s like you’re nesting dolls of desire, stacked with endless possibility down to the earth’s core like turtles.
It’s like I’m Lieutenant Olivia Benson and you’re some fucked-up murder. Give me 21 minutes to crack the case before you Dick Wolf and everything goes black.
It’s like we’re Brad Pitt and George Clooney, and we drop some glowsticks down an elevator shaft to illuminate its darkest depths.
It’s like you’re reading my pores like Braille.
It’s like peristalsis but for everything.
It’s like this belongs on NBA Hardwood Classics.
It’s like Don Cheadle pushing a button that plunges an entire city into darkness and chaos.
It’s like exploring the electric black kaleidoscope on the backs of your eyelids.
It’s like eight months of therapy because you just had a breakthrough.
It’s like a prophecy from Macbeth’s witches because we know how it’ll end but we don’t know how it’ll get there and either way Birnam Wood is coming.
It’s like the best day of my entire life, when the elementary school crossing guards went to the water park. It was June and pouring summer rain on a Friday morning and there was no lightning so the park was open and empty and we took unlimited rides on the warmest wettest slides in Central Ohio. You weren’t there but I’ll help you remember.
