Stop-
the drumming of your thoughts,
the ticking of the anxiety,
(your head, why does it twist so sharply?)
and let this one idea resound in the abandoned highway
(click)
alone.

Like a shiver that warms,
(click, twist, snap)
as much as it acknowledges the presence of cool
let this idea *****
a neat pin-hole
in your bundle of cloth.

Hear this:
I need not know your past,
only what you can remember.

(click)

I need not know your crimes,
only what you regret.

Only
what you
can remember.

(click.... click)

Where, like a loving mother
can I sponge off the blood and grime?

Here, in this musty bathroom,
all I can see the thin layer of sweat,
the scrunched muscles in your face,
your hands,
and the way they interlock those sooty Legos together,
apart,
together.