[He]

He is a bottled haste of rush hour

That sheds it's soda ash skin only to clog kitchen sinks and toxicate a family dining platter

Deadlines keep him on speed dial, while promises knock at his door and go unanswered.

In his city, ironed collars and concrete smiles jiffys through unsettling crowds and never notices me trip over the metal monotone of his front porch , spill my self consciousness, drop my calm and end up in unhealing papercuts.

I don't tell him I wished

Somedays the pavement of his busy street pulls him back home and he catches his always thumping breath for a second ,watches the glisten of reflection in his own irises .

That the curtain of time is faintest at the crevices of his childhood photo album

A sheer touch and your ex bestfriend's laughter will bubble up from the edges,

I do not tell.

Instead I stitch a sweetheart collar satin dress from all the red flags,

Instead there are shenanigans at open mics and way too much champagne.

I never tell him ' Stay'

And

He

Leaves.

[You]

The November wind read what you wrote in your moleskin paper journal

and whispered the same to the daffodils at your backyard ,

Now the oaks that stand tall snuggle to let in more sunlight pirouette round your satin skin,

You have a trace of pinhole eclipses and liquid sunsets that don't last,

Saltspray breath and seafoam eyes,they cradle broken glass.

A little left over spring rests on your shoulder blades and when you speed over I swear I see monarchs rampage.

I say,

I want peonies in glasswater

Faint sunlit hallways,summers leftover.

You say,

You want words of a windsong to coalesce

And set clotheslines to ripples of dance.

I know,

The day you were born NASA captured a setting sun trail ,

That is to say

After we meet for the last time

I'll follow a zillion such trails

Just in the hope of finding you at the end.

(I look for you at the edge of reality

And hold on to your hand

Almost ,

Eachtime

Dreamlike.)