Like certain lovers standing
amongst a slant of light
face to face
as if a public place fell away
hand touching face
I am just a pillar
of a building
quietly austere
made of pebbles pressed together
our lives will pass one another
momentarially brushing,
the particles of a second
would dust fingertips
with the years I have spent
trying to attain some certain
something
all the shoes that pass, tied to feet
sewn together by ligaments
woven muscle, embroidered with nerves
in a puff of smoke
the only fragrance to this bitterness
on a threadbare winter day
the sun shone from squinted eye
we stood face to face
through thin curtains of blue