Hot promise
of pins and needles
in my brain.
You bushwhack the slugs
from my limbs.
I am dusted off,
sharpened,
tempted to tap dance.
I am unstoppable.
Somebody asks me how I’m doing
and I say I’m fine
but what I should have said is:
I’m euphoric.
It’s no wonder there are cafes
on every corner,
we are thirsty
for feeling
this dilated
with life.