Electromagnetic Fields

Man and wife are looking at 
different walls of the bedroom,
backs slightly turned against the other, naked, 
 a city below rumbling with 
 life and excitement, alive like Friday nights,
 downtown bars, expensive cocktails, 
 the showmanship, 
 the flirting, playful glances and touches. 
The sound and the noise muted 
through pre-war walls, 
a car honk, a laugh, a yell, 
 myriad yawps of joy, 
nullified wholly by lovers’ distance, 
thick miasma, spiritual toxicity, 
dull and grumbling like 
 secluded thunder. 
Their feet and legs are touching,
somewhat together,
but all senses of touch are feelings
 of electric repulsion;
 no two things ever touch.
 It just feels as though they do.

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