Billions of blue oxygen molecules,
suctioned and spinning down,
a pair of gasping lungs,
bunching into airy bouquets,
perfumed with honeyed breath,
I lose mine.

And red, hot blood cells pulse,
deranged through veins,
toward a pumping muscle,
fluttering, dizzied
hearts spread wings,
beating to a dream,
beyond the stream of sunlight,
refracted through spotted glass,
and dusty brown blinds,

Propping a clammy hand with a face,
I mean, a face with a hand,
Neurons fire, tingling and tickling,
with a thousand moaning arrows,

Smoothly cupping my quivering chin,
To echo the creamy symphonies,
of just three sweet words.

But a blaring tune guffaws,
the drool of dreamers
still sticky on the corner
of a chapped lip,
mine ever-puckered,
And instead, five sweaty ones,
"Can I borrow a pencil?"