by KEITH
He hears the echoes of laugher vibrating in his ear,
Smelling the flavor of scolding hot lava chips dipping through its dense rich sun cheese sauce,
Touching the counters, grabbing me like a glue stick,
Feeling the icy temperature paralyze the individual skin cells in my hand as if fire touches an arctic pool.
He dances with melodious structure in one with the house shaking base of the beat,
Carpet fibers tickling the nerves of his feet causing the sweat to thicken in his brow as toothpaste from its tube.
Only color would create a more blissful moment.
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