there is a moment — you know the moment —
when the thinking stops
when the name of the person stops
when your own name stops
and you are not you and they are not them
you are just
the thing
the friction the pressure the heat the salt
the animal the mammal the pre-verbal
the grunting moaning sweating creature
who has no opinions about anything
for the first time all day
for the first time all week
maybe the first time all year
and the thinking stops
the THINKING STOPS
and stopping is what you've been trying to do
on the cushion in the therapy chair in the yoga class
and you couldn't do it
but the body can do it
the body has always been able to do it
the body just needed another body
or its own hand
or the right pressure in the right place
and then:
gone.
you. gone.
the narrator: gone.
the one who watches: gone.
the one who judges the one who watches: gone.
just heat and dark and something building and
there
right there
the orgasm is not the point
the orgasm is the punctuation
the point is the three seconds before
when you are nobody
when you are no one
when you are the closest you will ever get to not existing
while still existing
and the not-existing-while-existing
is what the mystics meant
it was always what the mystics meant
they just couldn't say it
because you can't say it in church
but you can say it here
in the sheets
in the dark
where honesty has no dress code

and afterward
the body cools
and the names come back
and you are you again
and being you again is the sadness
and the sadness is not about the sex
the sadness is about the return
the return to the one who thinks
the return to the narrator
the narrator who never shuts up
except for those three seconds
those three seconds
which are the whole argument for the body
the whole argument for skin
the whole argument
for being a creature
instead of a concept