Nervous.

New poem. I wrote it while my hands were still trying to unthaw.

On an aching bottom,
with hands dry and numb
drown the noise around me
move to the blinding sun
you come to thought
a magnificent mind, intelligence
abound love to give, oh plenty of it,
sound and serene, pristine. You are exotic to me.
A name so familiar, belonging to an unfamiliar face
I’m not usually of jealousy, but i’d long to take her place
Ride the miles up North, where you heart bleeds
That’s where nirvana is, that’s where we’ll meet.