Tuesday, April 30, 2013


It always seems to be 
about crossing
hands fingers arms wrists
promises eyes intentions
subtle or even sublime
together twisting
falling climbing dropping
the first time 
a first time we share 
twirling ribbons with our eyes
far-reaching fathoms
wind-whipped and smitten
projected times
Sade sings our theme song
across and over 
time and a half 
seconds count 
about as much
as angry glimpses 
slipped and slipping
never welcome visits
always about crossing
back toward 
the other's shadow
legs and feet bring us
mender and mentor
and then together
cramped station cohabitation
and finally
con et cetera
our finest creation

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