A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

Your bare arm is warm against mine.

Fierce sparks (seem to) jump into my skin,

radiating as ripples throughout my body.

This tingling is foreign to me,

but I know its identity in an instant,

as I am racked with chilled shivers,

hoping my trembling passes undetected.

Out of the corner of my eye,

I search your face,

your body,

for evidence that this current runs through you also,

and find none.