“Static Electricity” by Neil Hilborn

In second grade we did an experiment with static electricity,
We rubbed balloons on our heads
And stuck them to walls.
And kissing you is kinda like that.
My hair stands on end,
I get shocked when I touch things
And I want to tell you stupid stuff like
Kissing you is a bundle of kittens
Colliding with my face at .5 miles an hour
It’s like being shot with a dart gun made of hummingbirds
That shoots darts made of hummingbirds
And your lips are so soft I can’t actually tell when we are touching
Like braiding hair underwater
Like napping under a blanket filled with rainbows and clouds
And your favorite books
When you kiss me the cartoon devil and angel on my shoulder
Climb into my ears
Lick all of my neurons
And start fucking on my brainstem
If you were a 300 pound professional weight lifter
And I were a Kia Sorento
You could drag me anywhere
Kissing you is patient and impossibly slow
Like peeling paint off the wall with glittery stickers
Or cooking a turkey with a lighter
You remind me of the time in second grade
When Bethany Hopkirk
Called me a freak face and stabbed me in the arm with a pencil
Cause Kissing you is kinda like that
Unhealthy and will probably result in disfigurement
But baby, bring on the facial scars and lead poisoning
Cause when you kiss me you are dangling me off a bridge by a belt
You are the screen door of my childhood
All taste and swinging
So full of holes you could never keep anything in
You are every black eye
You’re a semitruck and I’m a turtle with two broken legs
And a broken heart
You are illegal fireworks falling down stairs together
Driving on four flat tires
Playing Frisbee at night with a saw blade
Kissing you is like falling out of a 37 story window
Exploding into a cloud of robins and reappearing on the ground with my mouth full of feathers
And when I can’t kiss you
I try to find the static electricity in my apartment
I dig around in light sockets
Change lightbulbs with my teeth
And make out with the toaster
And I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a couple weeks
But baby when you kiss me
I can’t remember my middle name
Or which one is my left foot.
So come over tonight
We’ll shuffle around the apartment in our socks
And we’ll let our lips drift toward each other
Like tectonic plates made…
Out of kittens.

Neil Hilborn, (facebook) (twitter @Neilicorn); video via Button Poetry.

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