she spins nature in the palm of her hand. it is there. lightning, magic and carbon. it runs through her veins and we run through forests. it is wet and then she is gone. then it is gone and she is wet. where wind runs along the coast and leaves a path for its lovers to chase. grooves worn into the cliffs, tracks along the highway, along her arms. they are breathing, in every city and every town. sex pulses through them, like an organ, like a grinder. like music and ashes and sunsets made better by pollution. i am your burning, bleeding heart. i am your sundae. i am your flash and your pan. i am on a beach under a blanket hiding from anything that isn’t fun.