Your inferno of ten thousand fireflies puts to shame the angry flame I keep burning. Lifelight is the last memento mori. We can’t ignore when the lights go out, our eyes aren’t for it.
Can she feel the static when she appears? Can her look capture the way the hairs on my neck stand at attention like a diligent soldier and how my legs stumble like those of a far less diligent soldier? Can her eyes parse that if they lock mine then the neuron public transit in my mind derails and everything stops up? No more passengers, cleanup on aisle — what was the aisle called again?
I like to think. So I make it a rarity to visit that Cerulean City: misty eyes as I said farewell.
“WE’LL SEE WHO’S FIRE BURNS HOTTER” – L.K.
Inchoate 