Under the Aurora borealis
under the impression we are going somewhere

Outside on the hot steps the couriers dab themselves and idle
Shimano clickers rest and no wheels turn no
call is made

We descend from apes and then we pause
on 50 K in our chic apartment

We fought laughing over an old photograph of you
I keep thinking of that day you wore
a pastel blue sweater boots lined with fur
a strawberry beret and you were
standing and smiling in Arctic Circle snow
from the pines and rotting eaves
beads of meltwater were shining mercurial slivers of a burnished rain

From another epoch a few years ago a distant tumult
Different drugs different music different hairstyles
Everything so past, like Showa or fleets of silver bombers
from the Cold War

Now we’re not laughing anymore

We breathe hard

We stare at each other

Our gaze moves us

You come closer

Hold still you murmur

 


re-post
from the unpublished collection, Static, c. 2006/7

 

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