Something like Mozart -only not-
Swinging from her
Speakers as her
Sofa gets barely wide enough
For two desert wandering souls
Approaching the same
Water.

Same pure,
Simple, simple water.
Something like perfume,
Only not, floating sweetly
On my hands, as as
Vivid a ghost as any of any
Living thing I've felt in ages.

The boys and Lennon sang
Truth. Sometimes, all you
Need is
Love. Any kind.
Any intensity.
Any sort of
Sensitivity.

Anything like Einaudi's piano
Will wake it up again;  
That tattoo on the face
Of Time and Space where
You took
Something you were given
With a steady hand.