A short circuit, or a hum.

Across the canned goods aisle,

light too sharp on plastic wraps.

My hand, it stopped mid-reach, a trial

of quiet, electric, sudden traps.

Your hair, I swear it caught a sheen,

fluorescent bright, it made me blink.

My own palm, empty, felt so keen,

a warmth I didn't stop to think

about. Just stood there, cereal box

between us, mundane, still, and red.

My heart felt like it spun on rocks,

or maybe just got wired instead

into a grid I can't quite hold.

A hum inside my chest, so new.

A feeling stupid, stark, and bold,

and everything else feels askew.