She played with my eyes like a child
plays with a cat
the way teeth reflect our joys and tomorrows.
Satellites surround daybreak and wrap us in echos
from excitingly close yet desperately far degrees of arc.
And a lifetime is put on hold for a white number
in a red circle
that gives a sense of
and ecstasy knowing you were on the corner if only for a moment
before scrolling past.
Seeds always bear fruit
if in the proper conditions
and sleepless nights wave goodbye
and make you stutter excuses
when she asks about them.
Dream. Die. Age. Be. Who are you are we
to believe in golden sunsets and dawns
and 4AMs where she disappears for good.
There’s still the basic truth
that we desire and seek to be desired
and is there anything that lies beyond that?
Beyond colors and memory and light and being and
soft couch cushions suitable for forts
or laying out the dead.
When coffee is cold
and hearts are warm
you put your hand in mine
and together we stop time.