we're on different sides of the telescope

we're on different sides of the telescope
ignoring the sky and absorbing some dark
euphoric X-Rays from the other's single eye.
mine is paint splattered and fragmented
hazel.
yours structured, paint-by-number
kelly green.
your head tilting, framed by some halo of
artificial foliage.
seperated. we are kept safe by dark holes
shot in some paper wall between us.
by mindless incantations like Buddhist monks
or the times-tables.
our lead filled fingertips cannot collide.
they spark at touching.
your heart is sweet,
dark and waxy like sun-melted 230 calorie
chocolate.
you might understand me if i say we've
bonded covalently.
we're free-minded and incongruous
seated at opposite sides of
the proverbial turning tables.
maybe the glass wall will evaporate
if you dare to touch me.