i’ve been doing
     a lot of typing
     and deleting
     as of late.

     bringing thoughts
     to the present
     assigning letters
     and codes
     and then

b a c k

     letter by letter
  a retreat
to the succinct
the appropriate
the vague
the non-committal
the veil
the chain

A concrete island
Adrift upon the asphalt sea.

Come and sit with me
In drunken reverie.

your skin on mine;
we lie here

with fingers interlaced
and our eyes locked
then with legs intertwined
and my head cocked
in the crook of your neck

here is where i feel safest;
my skin on yours

These rocks--
round,  not suitable for skipping
centuries of rolling along
the stream's flow--  all
the edges ground smooth
in the most ancient of ways.

These ones making walking difficult--
when one rock doesn't fit well with others
it rolls
and shifts;  not
wanting to find its   place
with the other rocks, making
footing unsure--       unstable.

I see this one;  there--
unconcerned with the fit.
It
has an edge or two--
   still..
as of yet  not ground smooth.
It stands out--  not
for the safety of step it can provide,
but for it's utter uniqueness--

               a stone like no other;
     with it's almost chosen-rough edges.

I want that one-- right there.

                         That one.

and when you said
laughter is like a foreign language
i imagined that i was
teaching you how to
speak it

In a sea of scent
Beyond the reach
Of silver birch
And hornbeam beech,
Beneath a ragged patch
Of deep blue sky,
Adrift on a blanket
You and I.