Illusion

it may all be illusion, but it is holographic

every cell, every emotional frequency of this vehicle

that’s what the body is for, blessed service

faint sunlight on new green shingles on the roof next door

my friend in the sauna yesterday said,

I’m sensitive, but I’m glad I’m not as sensitive as you.

extra slab of flesh on my belly, too much popcorn and chocolate

impulse to try to soothe through the mouth,

which only seems to inflame it. except for one thing

smell touch taste, sharing tendrils of light.

though my mouth did not inflame, my desire for him did,

a thousandfold, so be it. now I suffer the loss