the purity of life

there are times I notice things about you.

like the way you, with exactitude,

place your drinking glass

back on the same wet ring 

from where it was just lifted to drink.

so precisely, 

as if not to alter the original wet circular,

even while the glug you just somewhat inhaled

is now racing down your throat,

past thirst perspective quenched,

onto a throat downpour.

yet, you still, with one eye perspective, 

place that liquid rocket launcher back exactly.

and how the two of you,

one, with exactitude placement 

and the other with liquid stampede,

can function simultaneously,

is a marvel, 

hardly appreciated by others.

but I am transfixed to notice more.

you are a basic animated symphony of action.

for the way you quarter-turn the glass 

each intended sip into a gulp.

and the way ice, onrushing to your lips,

is thwarted off of your mouth's entry,

without hindering liquid's freedom in passing,

is as a form of border patrol with expertise.

dare I learn more?

this is purely swashbuckling at its finest,

without grandstanding as its purpose.

if I could be that thoroughly thirsty

to free reign on quenching,

I'd gladly surrender the subtly of observation

for the brandishment of this purity of life 

as one's self as exhilaration . . .