some hidden cause breaks
fever soaking early afternoons
of still cold sun
days in the lovers' month

where seeing isn't quite
come past believing
would you ever or would i
find pitch dark path
so close the smell still moves

concealing all the consequence
of singularities spaced
where too easy crossfire
has no wheels
no combination
and no pleasure that's remembered

you no longer name this world
spent casings loosely scattered
guarantee no evidence
that i was ever in your eyes
imagining the sliding time
when snow fell on the wall
the street the lovely hill