Wit, like the flick of a flame
It wavers, as if to go out — as if it was never there at all.
If just for a single moment.
Then it’s back in a flash and it warms your fingertips, ignites your brain.
Elusive, effervescent, E-
I want that.
I want to hold it in the palms of my hands.
Let others to lap it up.
Lead the horse to water, the moth to the flame –
and hope
that they will take a sip.
I need them to drink
more than they ever wanted or cared to.
For that flicker, anyway,
it’s ecstasy.
And that’s wit.
Just one, single moment.