Pink Pearl

I sketch my plans in pencil with one hand,
fat pink eraser ready in the other.

People wonder aloud why I don’t use a pen.
But if, as the latest example,

they had felt the current of your smile,
witnessed its crossing of the room,

instantly an unbridled reflection 
on my own mouth -

day after day, the same, only
the circuit’s loop getting smaller, 

its charge gaining strength,
creating more luminous beams;

if they could glimpse my mind and its 
opening at such electricity,

see the long-darkened paths
now flickering in space -

only to discover your tethers then,
my fat pink eraser already hard at work

before I have time to weigh the meaning…
maybe they would pick up pencils, too.