212 degrees water.

212 degrees water
and you're threatening me with a match
because you know i'm afraid of fire
and like a lamb to the slaughter,
i was drawn to the possibility of light.

boy you've boiled me
to 212 degrees water now
i'm boiling like the
water oceans of Europa
boil beneath layers of ice
after heat energy from
tidal friction
causes her to flex her core
like she's cumming.

your match used to inspire.
i would close the blinds in all my windows.
i would turn off all my lights
in anticipation of fire.

because i was so very
cold, the first word spoken, primal
as hunger, need, or death.
cold that could steal every one's warmth
and freeze their final breath.

my cold, when it bothers you,
makes you call me frigid bitch snow queen.
(my face remained as impassive as
an ivory statue's mien.)

you told me you didn't like the cold.
overnight once on the slope of Kilimanjaro,
you told me,
the cold waited, frostbite, while
Sleep, bearer to the grave,
lured you with the small snippets of death
those who are drowsy crave.

so we would sit in the dark and talk for hours
about all of the things light brings,
like fireflies, sunsets and flowers,
and i would insist
we reminiscence
about the time Aphrodite made the human eye
out of air, earth and water
and lit the fire inside
which shines out like an LED flashlight
and makes possible sight.

i didn't have the heart to tell you
i didn't want to see a firefly, sunset or flower
or bask in the light emitted
from solar power,
i only wanted to see you.

so we sat in the dark and talked for hours
about all that light brings.
all its powers.
how we're bringing it to space
because we heard it's very dark there,
how light will help us find extraterrestrial life,
because life on earth isn't rare,
and life in space is more rare than unicorns,
even,
and the more rare an object is
the greater its worth
like diamonds and kindness
and a virgin birth.

i only want to see you
don't you want to see me?
we've been sitting in the dark for a while now
dark too dark for shadows
dark that makes me think of shame
dark like a spider's dream
don't you feel the same?

i want to see you
do you want to see me?
but you just kept talking about
ETs, shadows and TV,
integral tactical lights that you saw fit
on a .50 caliber machine gun
i said, let's light the match
you said, we only have the one
maybe we should save it
for when it might be more fun.

i said we can spread the light
you said that in trying to transfer the flame
we couldn't take the chance
the sudden movement might put it out
the way logic is
in an interpretive dance.

i said I'll put the kettle on
let's have tea
i can't relate to you, you're me
but maybe over a cup of chamomile
we'll learn how to disagree.

i said, let's try to transfer
imagine how much my face will warm up
when it
the light depicts.
a green douglas fir
would go up like the great fire of london
in 1666.

you said you knew what might be more fun
using the match to light a large
nuclear-powered "melt probe"
which would melt through my ice
until it hit my ocean below.

my unlit interior is now
considered to be
the most likely location
for extraterrestrial life
in the solar system.

i almost excused myself from the table
because i didn't want to be probed for life,
but i was too shocked to move,
so i held onto my mug of chamomile
as you struck your match
and lit a firework
and i fought down bile
tried to resist
my mounting ire
and i held onto my cup of tea
all the while
and swallowed your fire.

it didn't matter how
hot your firework was
it still was
put out by the
boiling
scalding
scorching
212 degrees water
under my layers of ice
boiling like the
water oceans of Europa
boil beneath layers of ice
after heat energy from
tidal friction
causes her to flex her core
like she's cumming
and i said,
in the dark,
"you forgot about the boiling water under my ice
you frigid bitch."

and in the dark,
i finally saw you.