Monday, August 13, 2012


nonspecific memory of looking at your mouth

not in a particularly lustful way
nor in a way entirely devoid of lust, in fact
the intention was situated
precisely in that liminal space
that enables a passively shared
meatless breakfast,
the night after a simple thing,

to have been with you, in a capacity
to have spoken with you,

on your bed, one of us
accurately estimating me,

who knows if there was a breeze