it was something about the bounce in my step,in the rippling jiggle of my belly & breasts,something about the periwinkle painted pinkies,the purple pointers, the chipping its own kindof fashioning, something about the bendof the wrist, of the flick, about the way it sharesthe blunt, something about passing, breathsfalsetto’d, about the difficulty of altitudes—& maybe less how & why, more when & where—all of the comings in & out, something about pridewith a sibling fear of my own body, someonechecking the clock, how a sentence shivers,something about my sentient shivering, everythingabout how i’m too sensitive sometimes, toosensual, something suspect & censured,something to do with attunement, with pulsesin the blood, something about water & thickness& viscosity, something more like nectar, yeah,like golden honey, like golden bees & their buzzinggeographies—the gut brain…