There! Right there!
See the blur in the gloss, the pause in the pivot—
is it vibe, is it visa, is it coded in the wrist?
Watch the glance snag on the cuff, the half-smile that lingers
like a question mark shaved into the hairline.
Label me later; right now I’m pure motion,
a comma between genders, a shimmer you can’t file.
Call it grace, call it drag, call it Tuesday—
I’m still the exclamation you keep mispronouncing.