Bizarre and beautiful...

Bizarre and beautiful 
this dream
that one day you will clasp
my hands,
and marvel
at the many songs
they have escorted into being -
streaming from these fingertips,
weaving words with flying keys -
and wonder
that these slender wrists
conduct high-voltage energies,
flowing through the carpal bones
toward the slipstream of the stars,
the orbits of the Moon
and enigmatic and elusive Mars,
and yet remaining cool
to touch, not melting down
while channelling 
their cosmic messages
across the screen -
torching endless nights
with images
that coruscate
and burn,
until dawn's acrid
aftertaste of longing   
slows and slurs
the tongue…

Perhaps for a brief interval
you'll give me leave
to read your eyes -
oceans that encompass
skies, and each
small syllable I phrase;
perhaps your hands
will quietly reach 
to take my own
in their embrace,
engulf my fragile wrist-
bones till our fingers
are electrified
by all the poems
and songs that flow
between, suffusing
lips, eyes, face…