I'm inclined on green couch - I work towards my best face, my wrist angle marries the *****-light to the pane-shadow. You, so darkly pretty, totally oblivious to the agonies of little cameras. We talk too few minutes, say goodbye too soon, fumble with the chemistries that still crackle between us, despite your wall and wine. Little cameras reveal me the wrong way, but they bring you to me across the thousands. I'm redeemed when my heart pushes for you, sweet glass.