We meet.

We talk. Our weeks.

You worry.
The why, the how, the what; the future.
I worry.

You're
strong,
sweet,
sensitive.
I'm
fiery,
withdrawn,
se­nsitive.

You talk about people, the plants, the doves, the seasons, your hands.
I talk about simulacra, the measures. Inattention; the future.

We meet.
In philosophy you rekindle.
We meet.
In language. We build one; we furnish; we move in.
As a space.

We meet in childhood; me and you 12.
We grow up.

I rush into a slumber.
My senses I blunt them. I break the space and I run.