He wants to tell the truth. But the truth refuses to undress, Refuses to go to bed with him.

She looks at him. He doesn’t know how To talk into her.

Mordant desire twists Around his spine, ivy Which can kill an oak.

He wants hear Through his skin. Only the wind knocks.

--

There are only two walls To this room, distance And time, which is also distance.

Sometimes he stares at that point Where perspective begins, hard. Past is a caved in subway station.

--

Each of you heft your respective backpacks And wriggle your shoulders as if what Has passed between you doesn’t yet fit.

--

A day goes spinning, a discarded hoop Which I race through the dusty lane Till I reach your door and yell your name.

--

To remember the first time You met someone, Tattoo the date on your skin. For time erases the windscreen Of memory, its steady arm Swinging in the rain

There are many ways To measure time.

The first one I have known Is between meeting And parting. Another is between Remembering and forgetting Both the meeting and the parting.

Tonight, you gave me a third, This gasping between laughing!