There’s gonna be someone, soon enough. Someone else to make my heart skip for a while and ache a while longer, someone to agitate my thoughts and drag them like iron filings in a single, tenuous etch-a-sketch direction, compel them into points like pinpricks of light on a vagabond horizon.
Someone’s bound to come along who will electrify things. Someone who will send surges up my under-insulated synapses, make me rethink this serotonin reuptake inhibition business, let me live like a live wire without shocking me senseless. Someone to remind me it’s the current that’s dangerous.
Someone–eventually–someone’s going to see that I already have all the power I need. Someone’s going to get the importance of polarity, and most of all he’ll see that we’re a circuit, not a battery.
Right now I’m still making lamps out of lemons and alligator clips–allegorically, I am still in ninth grade science getting stuck with the broken lightbulb, wondering all the while where my circuit was mislaid.
I’d like to say
That I see you there across the room, fingers stuck together with electric tape. But “you” have always been abstract, even when I thought I recognized the patterns. I’ve never drawn a schematic that would tell me what to look for.
But you’re gonna be someone, I’m sure–and I can’t map out the mechanisms, sort these options, bend these prisms from the back bench of the class. You’re a hypothetical, and until you get close, all this extra energy has nowhere else to go