Frustration when your fingers stick together in a web of dubious intent
Clumsy clumsy fingers, pressing all the wrong pressure points
blissful serendipity are not in these here fingertips, nor is a technicolor climax while attempting to push the apex up so we could get down together
but alas, ’twas not in the cards, not within these short stubbed reaches!
But listen to the the sound. Get closer.
The strum of an angel’s wing. Crystal gleam, a steaming train of thought. Glam. Plenty o’strawberry jam.
A harmony rings from above “All Right All Right All Right All Right All Right…”
a rhythmic clap rumbles behind billowy dark violet clouds. The aroma of honeydew drops clinging to tall grass at dawn, a calm culmination of all things considered.
So close yet so far away
if only I could get these sticky fingers to spread that way.