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