Ion Drift, Minor Arc

In the doorway’s hush, the elevator clicks shut —
The city’s pulse muffled by wool and breath.
Keys scatter like silver on the metal tray —
Six sharp chimes ring clear.

A 2mm spark jumps,
Bites, then folds into the dark.

Low light spills through the narrow hall,
Brass rail gleams under a residual charge ball.
A hand slides — hiss — cold conductivity,
220 volts exit like a sigh too faint for voice.

The crimson sweater lifts past the crown,
Pulled slow — as if the fabric carries the town.
Blue-white filaments unravel into dusk,
Tension — five kilovolts — released
Into ionized air, no husk.

A violet crack leaps from wool to skin,
Shivers map the wrist’s soft bin.
Sleeves fold — creased, like silence’s brim,
And air returns
With a breath of
Three-second hum — dim.

By the window, nylon blinds drag slow — sss,
Friction snaps a thread of violet glow.
Curtains clench with 1.2 kilograms of subtle pull,
Humidity rising, shirt stretched full.

Hair lifts in static anticipation’s bow,
Cyan mist (point three degrees) above the vanity’s flow.
Socks slide on floorboards —
Soft scrape…
A heel pivots left.

From the new vinyl, the film peels clean —
Lilac sparks trail off the rim’s sheen.
The sleeve snaps shut — a hollow pop,
Then steps tap tile.

The fridge clicks shut with a vacuum sigh,
Blue LEDs blink — like low-lit sky.
One bottle hums with frost-bit glass,
Its silver label worn,
The year — half-passed.

Three cubes fall in a muted crash,
Tink — tink — thunk — then settle in a splash.
The cap unscrews with a rubber twist,
Static crawls
Where cold has kissed.

A pour — clean stream, the gin ignites,
Bent through ice in fractured lights.
Twenty volts ride the rim like lace,
A shimmer arcs
Across the brace.

Lips to glass — then sip and glow,
Juniper, wire, and after-snow.
A breath —
The swallow pulls the charge…
Electric hum,
Expanding large.

Glass sets down — soft clink echoes,
Floor creaks toward the window’s glow.
Latch clicks — threshold breaks at floor 17,
Thunder murmurs behind distant glass screens.

Walls breathe pale blue — 90 lumens down,
Room tuned, voltage rising without sound.

The doorknob stings in a parting glance — snap,
White bloom arcs across the neck’s edge trap.
A palm pressed to glass — the city hums beneath,
Neon veins flicker in pre‑storm sweat’s wreath.

Halos blur through condensation’s air,
Breath and light — unresolved, woven fair.
Condensed current pools — in corners unseen,
3.5 amps — no flame, no heat…
Only drift,
Only sheen.

Under red wool, above the streetlight’s haze,
A closing system loops through incomplete days.
But nothing finishes —
The pattern holds wide…
Circuits extend
Beyond frame and time’s tide.

Somewhere —
A second light behind the cloud’s ink,
Somewhere —
A field still draws
400 kilovolts of charge — no blink.

What was sparked
Remains unclaimed — and fine.
The silence hums…
With memory’s arc line.

A final glow folds back the night’s crest,
Rain not yet fallen, static still breathes in rest.
One breath, one slip —
The filament shakes —
Waiting, waiting…
For the next contact it makes.