Over the transom, under the table, across your face. Shot through pneumatic tubes, flung on a newspaper route, pushed through the fat pet’s flap door. Uni-cycled, bicycled, tri-cycled, quad… car. A pass through the lips, a wink of the eye, a sneeze done twice to think of me. Through courier service, snail mail, e-mail, singing strippergram. By paper lantern, balloon, Zeppelin,...
she knows physics and love; she folds me into herself, collapsing arms, a chair, legs - ourselves a trellis stage - a page of easy origami “there” she says, “love’s a wormhole; from there, I’ve made you here.” armed thus, I suspect that she expects that we will travel across the universe. - Christopher Ujine Ong