The fact of our friendship is that
My love is so elephantine, I love you like a tuba is completed by oxygen.
The collision and rushing byzantine mechanical connection, capping, making
Something out of the pause-less swell-and-shrink of living so that
The brassy and absurd inter-bending slopes of my persona can meet oxygen (that is,
Your quiet potential-ful necessary-ness),
And again! From the top!
Oxygen can only be completed when love, like mine, is so elephantine
A little big and a little aware of it, plucking you for a second from the hot
Swirl-swell of lung-life (where before you could have
Sworn you always wanted to be) up here with me,
Letting me give you sound and send you out
A little fuller and higher than your fellow floating pockets of molecular existence
Because without you this silly twisted trunk’s only note was
Because even the golden gleaming mammoth — oh no wait especially the gleaming mammoth —
Needs the invisible ignitable science of inhalation.
And so I need you.