There are two quilts of stories woven and hanging between you and I. You cannot see  the layout of my thoughts or their coordination with my actions.Nor can I see yours.

You see the quilt. The same quilt from years ago. The stories blow in the wind and as does your hair . The same dead ends come up one after the other like roads signs as you drive into the highway of the past.

One question, two questions, ten questions and perhaps you would understand. Perhaps all could fold their quilts and see clearly what has been blowing behind the fabric.

May you soar whether you can see a crowd or a crow from the corner of your eyes.

Constantly, may you see the sky and take it to it–all flight is nature’s miracle and so are you.

If our line of flight crosses or never does overlaps matters not. Let us be two fleeting flapping winged creatures for now

be today’s love child, look
out the window or put down
the glass screens, all seconds yearn
for you, moan for sweet attention
and you yearn for every single
one of them, too
so deep is your yearning
that you hush it with reproach
like you would a neighbor’s dog
barking outside

But it’s your dog
so it’s right outside your window
and the years of wishing
your were someone else
have not neutered
your own desire to return
to the arms of the present
instead you too begin to bark
your desire unyielding