When.

Feet never touched ground
On that grass of endless summer
Where eternal youth lay spread,
Gathering the sun into its body
Filling its lungs with memories.
See now.
Now there it lies
Framed in a sepia snapshot
Full-bodied, blood red
drunk with sun and laughter
Now it materializes
Gleaming, shimmering
on cold winter nights
A carnal reminder of all that we were
Of all that we could be.
And of feet that knew how to fly.

Charge.

Franklin, they say found it in a metal key

tied to a kite in a storm-filled sky.

Faraday sought it in wires and motors

Volta ferreted it in plates of shiny metals

Edison encased it in bulbs and what-nots.

Such fools, these great men.

Such tiresome workers, these wise men.

If only they knew

that electricity is found

Not in science and laborious calculations

Not by math or funny looking equations.

But in the locking of lovers lips.

For what can be more electric than a kiss?