Cloud Me

With the clouding factor of being here,
in this brilliant light, and not being with you,
the blue bouncing like love gone crazy around

the room,  I stand on the scales, at sea level
with all the gravity I can muster, divide by ten 
and multiply by seven to approximate my liquidity

that was once, and will be, pure cloud.  I read as
thirty-eight litres of cloud potential,  thirty-eight
litres of ebullient cumulous rising, lapping

through the water cycle I will be nimbus,
stratus, cirrus, altos, storm and ice.  Sooner
or later, you and me, we'll mix, rise,

condense together, travel and rain apart,  
our water content more permanent than the DNA
that imprints face, bones, codes for

for muscle to tilt the head that might revert
to thinking about clouds, that needs a body
to bear it.  Little squirls of me, unwinding helices

of us, subsets swimming to extinction
while our enduring water, returning cloud
shaped, will outlast all organic parts of us.

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