Exactly
a poem
Perfectly melted cheese and most ways that a baby smells,
the spark of unexpected commonality between each other,
three colors that vibe like a beagle pup licking your face,
a thumb war with someone who cares about the outcome,
every noise Prince makes during “Kiss,”
that look, right before the song ends— your first time dancing,
pubes that rise due to static, an opening for the queen to mate.
