DANGER HIGH VOLTAGE / by grace mcgrade

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He tells me that I should come with a sign that says:

 DANGER, HIGH VOLTAGE

Tells me I am often in a million places at once, that I’m from another place. A stranger plane. That the things that I do that look like accidents are not really accidents. I often think about how there are a million avatars of me prancing around peoples heads, some dark, others inflated. I think his is closest to the truth. He sees the constellations in my eyes when they are closed, the imagery, the vagueness, the myths.  When you like someone they seem to develop powers, but you can’t always pick which powers they get- and that’s scary sometimes. 

You are the like the desert and I am like the forest. You have a holy horizon  and are full of mirages, golden warm, sweltering and dotted with cacti that give you keyholes into distant planes.   If you are the desert, I am the forest. I am green and changing with the glowing and dimming of light, hard to regulate, with no fixed pattern, the stage of a fairy tale. Study the shadows and you will become unafraid of your own woods.

Your eyelids become mine briefly, and I see with astigmatism. My skin has regained it’s sensitivity, and you transport me to a richer universe. We are two spirits, wrestling.  I want to learn to control the part of me that bleeds into everyone I come close to. It's a different kind of feeling, not wanting to fall into someone but still wanting to explore them.

I like the apocalyptic pace, encouraging us not to hurry our natural unfoldings before calculating the safest bet. 

After we kissed you couldn’t stop vibrating, your whole body electrified and alert with a brand new oscillation. It went on for hours, and you left thinking I had done it on purpose. With you, the synchronicities come in animals, because everything is shut down. We are warriors fighting the invisible airwaves. The Phantom Enemies. The Psychic Warfare. We're in the business of freedom, immune to everything happening around us.  We see pairs of doves and fire ants and stars within the stars, whispering a blue mythology of ancient secrets. I have to remember to stop eternally narrating for the planets and start speaking about my feelings. I like that you can get lost in watching me retract from reality, and have gasps of these understandings at the symbolic layers that are more comfortable for me. 

Most people feel like another species to me, but not you. I want you to undress me the way someone who understands stars should be undressed. You are erotic, because you leave me with things think about.

DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE.