sometimes it finds you
on the hood of a car
or the end of a burning cigarette
carelessly in the eyes of a stranger
or the secrecy of a whisper
the steam of a coffee
and the companionship of a smile
a face to forget
and the broken continuity of a memory
the hard metal of a camera
and the expired film
interlocked fingers
and the feeling of her body
shameless as it should be
love is bound by circumstance and fear
of what I am not sure
yet broken by passion
it is good
it is kind
it is holy
it is mine