The Afterward ...

You break my scales, 

                   shooting past 100's like they're 75's;

I exhale

       and my lungs still feel full.

Sitting on some monotone couch

                                  by you (

                                       You—more brilliant than a chem-lab fire)

Leaves me so goddam jacked 

                                        to be alive,

                                       I forget that my life

                         was never dull:

Everything fogs but your face

                    in my view.

Then it's late—like that—

    and we're tired.

So I go to my bed,

            10 miles away,

  Lie down sighing like a

                 metal-shop stove:

                Black-calm, red-hot,

       making glow what I inhale,

     Fuming toward the night sky

            (mouth stained with sun).

                              I fall asleep to

           my own heartbeat's play,

Jumping toward that vapored 

   ceiling (love-

     love-

                love):

          How did I ever

                      just sit beside

      the rainbow

           through

                                 that pale gray?

You— 

every-color in a band—

                   I'll imagine you less,

                                        once the mist goes away.