Drunk

I want
to be rolling drunk
poised
on the tip of
the sweetest

ecstasy,

not yet released, just before the waves take me--

Not intoxicated. 

No.
I want the Anglo-Saxon version. 
Rough.
Careless.  A little crude.  Of the gutter.

Forgetful of myself
trusting in others to

remember.  For a little while.

Painless-- never reaching
the place
where the balance is tipped
towards regrets.

Constantly giddy

dizzy-buzzed.  Like

a honeybee
in a meadow filled with
golden suckleweed, lillies, roses, sweet sweetness.

I want that moment
captured in
those time-elapsed photographs

at bloom's pink peak

still. . .
before. . .

imperceptibly reaching, shivering,
holy holy holy.