Not before

Not before the other shoe drops
We'll wade among people
like saltwater
mouths closed, eyes wide open up above
the crests
Not because the sun is spinning us
But because the passion of our blood will always
out-
weigh the push
and pull
of infinity around us.
Gravity
has nothing
on you
and
me.
Time is a mosquito.
Space is beneath the thrust of our bodies.
For us, the sour can be sweet;
the intangible is malleable;
the straight and narrow dips and curves;
we are technicolor grayscale.