One time I was on London's
busy Oxford Street
crossing the road
when I ended up doing the
awkward dancing encounter
the side to side shuffle
you know what I'm talking about
if you don't then go away now
with a camel coat wearing
executive type lady and yes heels yes

I went left, she went left
from my pov (which stands for point of view)
I went right, she went right, see above
I wasn't trying to be a nuisance
but it was quite confusing
then I went left, she went left
I went right, she went right
you get the picture, yes we see

This went on for one verse too long
(from her pov) then
she let out an exasperated HAH!
shoved me hard in the chest
shocked >I buckled< OOOF!

I have to say she had every right
and it takes an alpha-beta male
to admit this, thank you
for your attention to this matter

Vividly emblazoned in my mind is you the most beautiful body of work. Wanting nothing more than to write the sweetest arias about the depths of your heart.

Fingertips mapped constellations
where words dared not go,
and the night became a river
pulling us deeper, slower,
where time dissolved into touch.

Your kisses speak a language of velvet and fire, rewriting the silence between us, as you taught me the rhythmof surrender and return.

The world slipped away
when your lips met mine,
a hunger, a prayer,
a thousand sparks bursting into endless flames lit up my night like fireworks.

I opened my third eye
and we fell into eternity
As your body pressed against mine,
the rhythm of our shadows
dancing against the moon light.

The vision of you on replay
body to body cheek to cheek
heat pooling between us
like a secret too heavy to keep.
As you buried your secrets deep into me.

A first encounter turned into to soul binding acclimation
Your mouth was claiming the taste was sweet. Like lightning and thunder forming against the night sky.
The deeper you pulled me and I crashed harder into you until the sweetest cries broke from me like a prayer.

The feel of every gasp a confession,
every shiver a vow, every gaze a promise, every kiss a reminder and every taste a claim.

As we reached the peaks of mountains together our bodies sang songs of old and new turning into fire
burning, breaking, booming
two hearts lost and found again
in the oldest language of desire.

It’s Saturday morning at about 9am. I’m in the chemistry lab, a sterile looking room with 12 workstations that are like multi level kitchen islands with sinks and various lab gear. It’s the most fluorescently lit environment on earth and everything looks to be either white, stainless steel or glass.

I’m one of the two students in the lab this morning, so I’ve taken two stations at the far end of the room and I’m performing two experiments at once, I mean, why not get ahead?

Before I start a lab, I do a ‘cutsheet,’ It’s something I learned from my sister, Annick. The cutsheet lists every piece of equipment I’ll use (like a magnetic stirrer), every step I’ll perform (control the atmosphere), every safety measure I need to take (fume hoods), every chemical I will use (for instance alkyl halide in 0.1 concentration) and what my results should be. This is all more-or-less textbook - but I still hand-write it out myself.

It’s a quiet environment, I have my AirPods in and I’m listening to cello music - it’s relaxing. I’m performing two variations of nucleophilic substitution reactions - creating new carbon-carbon bonds. It’s Pretty standard stuff and I’m at the stage, in both experiments, where I combine reagents. When suddenly, a TA (teaching assistant) is stooping over my hunched, left shoulder.
“What do you have there?” He asked - let’s call him Lewis. I flinched. Ok, I jumped.

Lewis’ breaking the silence was sudden and intrusive. I hadn’t noticed him prowling about and for a moment I was flummoxed. I tapped my AirPods to stop the music.

This was irritating. See, anything I would say to him would sound like a child talking to an adult. He’s a doctoral student and to him what I’m doing is stupidly simple, like stacking blocks, but he’s put me in that position.

“I’m doing both variations of (problem set/homework) problem 5,” I motioned to the other station, “and I’m ready to introduce the Grignard reagent,” I couldn’t help a note of cringy defiance creeping into my tone, like a child expecting to be reprimanded.

“Are you..,” he started to say, I’m sure he didn’t mean for it to sound like an interrogation.
But I read his mind, adding, “I’m using anhydrous conditions and an ethereal solvent,” this time I said it like it should be obvious—and again I sounded childish and brittle (like an ignoramus)—to myself anyway—but I was at a loss. ‘God, I really need to be less defensive,’ I thought, mortified. I hate looking dumb.

He nodded his head, he’d been looking over my cutsheet. I gave him an upturned, sideways glance. Was he going to stand around observing or worse yet micro-manage me?
“Very good,” he pronounced, tapping my cutsheet lightly with an index finger, “carry on.”

He walked away, off to bother the other student, I hoped. Better him than me. I had work to do. I tapped my music back on, looking at my cutsheet.
Where was I?
.
.
Songs for this:
Havana by Brooklyn Duo
Carnival of the Animals: XIII. The Swan by Yo-Yo Ma & Kathryn Stott

I don’t think there’s a God except
  I’ve sometimes felt Transcendence.

I might believe in God except
  When we’re alone, we’re wired to project,

To think that someone’s over there
  Somewhere that we can’t see. Except:

We don’t see sound and we don’t hear light
  However loud, however bright,
 
So maybe it’s perception,
  Not projection,

One more connection,
   Outside of space and time,

One more direction,
  At right angles to the rest.

And when we turn down light and sound,
  And wait with no one else around,

Then reach out with a quiet mind,
  Perhaps it’s really God we find.

Up on the mountain he took them: Peter John and James
And before their very eyes, their Jesus was changed
His clothes became the most dazzling white
A cloud came in and they fell down in utter fright
The true weight of God's Glory came upon them that day
As Jesus went up to the mountain to pray
The disciples were given a special peek
Something to give them strength when they were weak
It was hope, it was light, and it was profound peace
In praying, that which we receive down on our knees
We are transformed with Christ; made new and clean
And while we may never have this very scene
We can have a similar experience and feel the glory
We can, today, share in this great Gospel story
We can adore and, like candles, burn in his presence
A gift for the greatest and least, for kings and for peasants

Lord, some days we can't see you because of the shadow, and sometimes we are blinded because you are so close to us. Most of us have been blessed to have Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind and felt the weight of your glory. The pure power of the energy and love in that moment is like a nuclear reactor. We become radioactive and sometimes even positively glow from the experience. Though it may be forgotten at times, it is still in us. In our darkest moments, help us call to mind this sunshine and cast away the doubt and fear. In your goodness, you have given us this hope of resurrection that we are longing for on Easter Sunday while we wander through the desert of trial and temptation for these forty days to obtain the true conversion and transformation. Thank you, Lord, for Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind that bring us into the light of your presence and the weight of your glory! Amen.