the room is small
the breeze flops against the listless shade
the ache, the way to you is in this small boudior
the daybed,the table and dresser
           the essentials
           stage props in a play
...........love has never been so contained,  yet so full with aliveness
          yet it was not
we met and departed in some confusing torment
we were hopeless
crossing over the threshold
we passed thru that doorway too many times
we crossed every fine line ever imagined
love was becoming a spreading stain
...i've lost count of sunday afternoons
the times i met you in a brutal arrangement
the times when we layed still and didn't speak
after the somersaults 
after we completed our separate parts
in this small tragedy
we just  layed back and breathed
-a faint bark in the distance
captures our attention
what does that dog want?
neither of us would answer
...all these years later i wonder
you must have known what i wanted
you had to...tell me you did...now