Her Mindful

Her Mindful

Her mind was a melting pot
of bodacious goodness.
Effortlessly lapping up the
wet and crunchy crumbs
that fell around life.
Those little bits gone unnoticed
by the drones in the world.
Those round and fuzzy,
squared-off bits kicked under the
dusty rugs.
She soaked them all up
like a sponge…
in gasoline…
lit a match and let them burn
hot and smoldering
before the daily masses.
She was a wizardress…some sorceress…
A warlock’s wet, cerebral dream.
I fell in love with her
front and temporal lobes.
Every time she would undress them
and speak her bodacious reflections,
I wanted to melt into her Broca’s area
and wrap myself into her
sensory cortex.
Thinking the deep thoughts
that the sheep threw into the trash…
labeled fodder.
Her mind was a melting pot
of bodacious goodness that soldered
every crevice of my cerebellum .
That fierce, ferocious, crumb sucking
Sorceress has scarred me
with her molten flame.
My brainstem will never
be the same.
Her mind has changed me.