Arthur Bull’s Personal Potion

I is a potion, begin
In the air, where nostrils sip
Molecules of clouds into your head,
Your hands. Listen
To kiss along
Spiral canals moving mood’s food
Into feet, and forage
For hands
And find (it/them) finding you – is a potion
In motion, begin
Again, sip new and swirl
Add breath and twirl
And whole world whirls for you, feel that?
The potion of you fills the ocean, don’t forget!