Preternaturally Present

We’re fine with everything today, we think –
we’re feeling preternaturally present:
the dissonance which had us at the brink
has now become a plethorably pleasant

mystery.
We're feeling downright sister-y.
No mother of a brother
of a lover of a mother

has it over us.
As richly odorous
and unctuous as brie:
you, and you, and you, and me.

It’s nice to press our flesh together
in this prescient purple weather:
take a random nap
upon a random lap –

thereby to understand –
espy –
not much beyond the adjectivally sweet grand
experience of your, and your, and your, and my.





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