A willing captive
gripped tight by her eyes,
steely, grey
and sparkling bright
in love
I watch her talk,
a loquacious fluence,
and study her lips like
a foreign language

your attention is slipping.

not at all.

well, she said
haven't you ever been in love?

I must have been
surely, I think
or something more akin
to time standing still,
the sands sculpting a moment
of a thousand lifetimes.

of course I have.

where is your love now?

right here, I think
chronic and immutable,
boxed into lines,
safeguarded and sound
in dreams and reflections,
vicarious,
a farce of mimicry.

well travelled,
I would say.

like blood from a stone.
well, she said
I'm glad you came,
will you come again?

and she went,
leaving me
with a pocketful of sand.

of course I will.