I just love some people so much that I feel like I should lust after them. This is a kind of love that squeezes the muscles low in the stomach, the same muscles that contract during orgasm. When I think about this hand-full of people I feel that the quick contraction of muscles might become an embarrassment.
I can't think about these people for too long or I might suffocate or cry or drop into one of those spontaneous hands-free orgasms that is so debilitating when you are on the bus.
Some of these people know that I love them too fiercely. Sometimes I tell them just to alleviate some of my red-faced mortification when I am in their presence. A few of them are oblivious. These are the quiet few who would find my enthusiasm quite frightening and who would never speak to me again if I ever let on how I feel.
"You must stop falling in love with your friends" my husband tells me, he who has been drenched by the full force of my love and who has managed to keep his footing despite the brute force of the wave.
I must stop falling in love with my friends, but they are so wonderful, this tiny cluster of bright people. I wish I could consume them. Ingest them. I wish I could take them up into my body and have them dissolve into me, making me as good a person as they themselves have been. I want to be free to mix my all-consuming love into the force of my lust which is quite substantial. I want to drink the concoction and grow drunk on it.
In another world, in another life I would make love to each of them and become them and feast on them and allow myself to be ripped into pieces by them.
Is this too much to ask?