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.
I have no idea what I am doing