LONGING

Longing. It goes deep down into the ocean where fish no one has ever seen bob along with lights on their head. They feel the longing trickle down onto them, but they've felt so much before, it's just like a fly in summer. They just brush it off. I long to feel the phantasmic current of connection, the purple glow that reaches around fences and through the leaves of trees and dodges dogs and cats and cars and hits it mark. I shoot it out from my heart but it fizzles in mid-air and evaporates.