I became unexpectedly aware
of a
magnet in my chest.
an anchor under my
breast bone.
soft, quiet, almost
unnoticeable.
until later pondered alone
in a dark room.

your polarity,
being opposite naturally,
drew me slow
through the aisles in
the theatre
past people carrying
jackets
into a park
where city stars
were streetlights and
our human discoveries
were serenaded
by the spring song
of homeless men pushing
carts up the street.

As our magnets gradually
synched
I felt the heavy slide and click of
understanding
coded into songs and on the fronts of
cards

and when I let you-
I saw colours in
your kiss,
noting that some matched
your eyes.
I found home in
your arms.
like a final orientation...
like being on a road trip my whole life
without even knowing.

Became afraid.

Because really,
who understands love,
when they've never been properly
introduced?

so i got these emotion things
i don't quite know how to express
when every face i see
is yours
with some odd personality
conceal'd by eyes a milky-hazel.
there's some reason you are
the end vowel in CATO,
there's some reason you're
only five lines long.
we found in passing mutual interest
trump'd by your own,
and you squander'd my time.
it's late now, and
the dead Greek's guitar
weeps after learning
hands which once graced it
would never again caress.
after a minute,
i follow'd in a
wake left by fleeting feet,
in attempt at egress, but
our beautiful mountain was gone.
i don't sleep these days,
i wouldn't credit you,
the devil went to bed with us
and he sleeps pretty good.
no, i wouldn't credit you.
credit due this silent machine
of mathematics and neuro-electric rhythms,
sparking, igniting,
some neuroleptic response
as i lapse in paradox.

When you plunged
The light of Tuscany wavered
And swung through the pool
From top to bottom.

I loved your wet head and smashing crawl,
Your fine swimmer's back and shoulders
Surfacing and surfacing again
This year and every year since.

I sat dry-throated on the warm stones.
You were beyond me.
The mellowed clarities, the grape-deep air
Thinned and disappointed.

Thank God for the slow loadening,
When I hold you now
We are close and deep
As the atmosphere on water.

My two hands are plumbed water.
You are my palpable, lithe
Otter of memory
In the pool of the moment,

Turning to swim on your back,
Each silent, thigh-shaking kick
Re-tilting the light,
Heaving the cool at your neck.

And suddenly you're out,
Back again, intent as ever,
Heavy and frisky in your freshened pelt,
Printing the stones.