Darkest purple leaves on the jasmine vine
Stomach on the fritz because wine last night

I kept thinking on the table

that she was communicating with my body in a language I don't know

that she could translate between us, my body and myself

and I felt different characters pass through me who I was too

I felt them wanting to be someone else 

and I that I could help them 

White flower that doesn’t smell like it looks in my pocket
Wind in my hair in the parking lot
Laying down on the cement

Laying down in the wellness room 

She said she doesn't feel like we always connect

did a gesture to mean just scratching my surface

I can't help the buffers I create 

She can't either and knows it

I can walk back to my desk

with my eyes entirely closed

I've got a feeling

and it's walking

warping*