Gliding horizontal,
not fighting a float
nor stopping a sink,
a perfect balance of buoyant
and weighted. . .
I cruise
vivid and finitely aerobic
with arms outstretched
to grasp the rims
of your multicolor iris
and swim deep into
the obsidian depths
of your dark, dark pupil
where I am spaghettified
upon contact with every rod
and every cone,
and diffused so evenly
into the circular, searing circuit
of your neural tree.