When I roll over about three a.m.,
 My ear canal next to your arm
  Hears the pressures in your vessels,
   The humors winding through your veins and arteries.
I think.
If my face is close to yours under the pillow,
 The atoms that were yours spaghetti through my arms
  After floating througy my lungs and heart
   And so past my hands
   Back to your skin.