Qualitative feelings

The children were lined up,
holding the handle of their stainless steel hearts
in front of indulgent parents,
waiting for the amniotic fluid supplement
in a justification of love infusion.
Over some years or people
they’re going to be dispossessed
by other children, more thirsty than they are going to be,
leaving them confused on the corrosive viran land of depression.
The trepidation of thirst was compelling me to make you blunder,
giving me credit for these qualitative feelings.
You were giving the stomach something to work on
so it wouldn’t expose you when you looked at me,
a kind of coitus interruptus of heartbeats.
I had never mined your galleries before
and yet, you wanted me to be your guide.