Oh My God My Chemicals

She had a different perfume.

She had a different perfume.

She had a different perfume

on every part of her body.

She asked me if I like perfume

while we were dancing at the party.

She had me smell them all.

She asked me which one I liked best.

Across her bonny face, a smile crawled

as she presented wrist and chest.

I saw all the way

through the tuned thumpings

to her dark-lined eyes

and said, “Of course, the chest.”

I’m a predictable guy.

But how the chest arrests --

oh my, oh my, oh my.

I’m just letting myself

feel captured right now,

and captivated.

Love that is not love,

but is, “Oh my god, my chemicals.”

If you could see me

slithering between these

strobes, all

chew, chew, chew, chew, chewing up

all volatiles,

all scented dust,

like a cannibal --

oh my god, my chemicals.

If you could see

our elbows brushing

like it’s the most momentous thing.

And, when she leans in to speak,

she leans into me to speak.

So, I’ll be swayed, honestly,

whichever way she sways.

What else is there to say?

Yesterday was horrible.

Tomorrow will be horrible.

Today -- tonight -- is okay.

Yesterday was horrible.

Tomorrow will be horrible.

Today -- tonight -- is today.

Hey, hey, hey,

I’m just letting myself feel something right now —

somewhat sedated.

Love that is not love,

but is close enough for chemicals.

Love that will wear off,

but for now, my god, my chemicals, my chemicals.

My chemicals.

Oh my god, my chemicals.

Oh my god, my chemicals.

Oh my god, my chemicals.

Oh my god, my chemicals (oh my god).

My chemicals (oh my god).

My chemicals (oh my god).

My oh my god, my oh my god, my!