hours have circled by in hope of seeing you approach-
to first notice your eyes exchanged in anticipating trance
when world stops: ends in a centrifugal flight into galaxy's arms
gravity giving up its intimacy for an arrow's push of this heart
into limitless space, unfold, attest a perfect conjunction

endearments will speed across our dance stepped stars
today, tomorrow
wearing chameleon skin hues that beckon a touch to solidity

now's concrete lot: sprouting weeds, grime, flat plastic bottle; denies parking
waiting for the sixty-seven north among phone-hands, averted faces
older wrinkles, tired limbs filling street cloths in rush hour's stupor
hurtling towards The Spiral Tavern to meet absent friends
who's beers foam happy condolences to current regrets and sorrow

a bus transfer lies deep within a pocket, there beleaguers ride home
empty stools, tables, rackety riot music playing exponentially
into tin-tapping ears and restless mind full of arresting alarms
talk becomes pennies on the dollar, prose runs off a cliff
time revolves around pleasantries walking towards the exit

Where are you now ...?

-cec