Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Two Thirds

Walking down the hill,
It was as I remembered
You descending the stairs,
Sitting at the gazebo
Till the night ran out of time.

Alone against the lashing wind
You tear me down the middle,
Staring out the window
While I stand here below.

The dinner bell is rung
But I am running late;
The cell phone caller has hung
Up. Dinner can wait.

It's a ball of dancing flowers,
A banquet as much as you can eat--
Stuck somewhere between showers
Of emotion and cold feet.

Divided between hiding in a desert
And drifting down the town river
(If I could be anywhere but here),
Between speech beneath the stars
And silence amongst them.

(Because no sound is heard in space.)

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