Strange, Identical As Only Love (Ending) Can Be
Indecision defines ways in which we lack: unadulterated puffs off meaningless sigils, as in- breathe in now please and exhale into my breath, it is yours—
So too, shall inner thigh touch outside hip, my unusual height plus your shallow heart in the center, can we have fun with this given there will be no knowing me, promise? Promise?—
It might be an opportunity to recognize the gift of our different isms right? No seeing me for real, okay? I said, hiding behind dunes of husky dust. Exception does not exist, but my say so does—
Comfort arrives yet, this road of your body has all the crossroads galore and then some more; how can one rainy, libidinously fraught path lead home when all of them err so equally in covalent erogenous whims, splitting like lightning—
Why would any single voice question this universal aria warming up with me me me me—
Was it wrong, my wish never sent or spoken, to be dreamless and linear existing cursively, looping forward from minute one to last second?—
(I mean) nerves end, yes, but do the fingers’ grey matters think “dead to rights” upon a graze or caress, or must a left turn at each tiny moan twisted up in your vocal pointing bring us to the middle of this verdant field we let founder for fecundity’s sake?—
Can temples twitch at cleaving licks without problems’ antennae calling phrases to phase our unified howl, mouthing sweet sorrow, a troubling melancholy gathering in furrows and hidden in folds?—
Tanned, hickory-switched, skinned palms, hands fall behind rouged with houses rough as gestures and foliage built at our backs while we lock eyes in misdirection’s ecstatic suspension, disbelief crops up as knowledge, past lies grow knee-high, weed beds with paving stones peeking between shoots—
Arched, sharp shoulder blades jump, skyward, we reach through calendar years, life’s chords strummed mattering every which a way, boom-chang and fingerpick clustering idly into the helix of hazel irises some days brown, others gold always stunning, flashing lashes tickling cheek and jowl, nose nestling clavicle, ringing cochlea telling a long winding love story—
Cleaned up, a conscience might light with matches and concert flames, a windy evening that just might be perturbedly purple enough to push a struggling smile to drive hours at tomorrow’s next show, the curtain call of dawn leading you on—
A little lazy fuse blinking in the double arrows, informing the junction between me and my love for you, and you, that this is that lost highway intersection, unnumbered, never mapped, exit exalted, cited widely, stance reflecting approach, any wayward forward traveler headed through to no return could ultimately try but fail each time to avoid—
Laws of motion, state, & nation began to track, our troubled, naked backs pressing into one another, our faces were pointed toward different elsewheres, the time was the same in both places—
Reclining we briefly dreamed grief—
Awakened we pledged unending honesty—