It starts with you (we dont begin with a lie, at least)
passing a bulb stolen straight from the middle of a
twilight streetlight (kids play football on a neon green carpet)
lily-lilting fingers slightly bent cat-pads bristle and extend towards to be attached to be attached to be attached to my face I crawl at them, quick they play my skin
like paint that beats in drops of rain From the spring of our shafted fountain-head
(lily pads surrounding, and the paving stones I invite you to, laughing to see your eyebrow crook at all the sun around you)
and in the time it takes to think of a response i've stapled a swing to the moon just to watch, how you watch me and be proud of how I manipulate, the beaming
casting shapes from my shadows in rose and opals, and ***, snakes and ballroom dances on the rolling globe beneath us;
(We hover over, our heads together, Now Protecting)
a millenia ago I deep myself in pavement mild the buildings that keep secrets of the vistas in rambled office parks of a light that turns metallic and bright
to remind us of when to come
when ivy runs the ruins of concert halls and you and I still walk the steps we made before sombre leaping silver to the sky tinkling a trail of harlequin puppets trembling from our coat tail, sweeping :
with the promise that we will try.
So: another life, we sit on a sofa and smile drinking coffee a cold light outside and a bird on a naked tree, and it has been a year or maybe three, and still we are managing darling, we are doing it, we are still in love, and navigating every moment as if we always will be in and out of everything.