Froggacuda's Weblog

I flood each time
I hear you or watch
you move sinuously
just to get a book to read
or to reach your coffee mug.
then I run like ink
in a rainstorm.
a note, a poem of you
streaming off the edge
of the page, a snake
dropping from the countertop,
pools on the floor
while I tongue-tied
try to point out your wet feet.