In seductions of ******
wisps of alarm, tongues fly
catching fire, their croaks
are red-headed matchsticks.

Intrepid hourly, the
blanketed white harassed
the appointed locum, the
cashmere buds of tobacco.

The open mouths adhere to
the King of Limbs, the
experimental corsages that
— bloom —
into existence.

There is a space between
all the noise where
my fetal poise can reside,

forever holding,
holding on,

forever holding,
holding on.

You and me
love like a
memory
moving
forwards backwards
up down side

no need to count
the ticks of the
clock
of life

better to feel them
listen
tickle
like every beat
of the short
life

we call love

one quasar to the next
frogpond
thoughts lost and found
more quickly
than a political
flip flop

chasing the dream
of living life
decently

without much mean
drama

you and me
one kiss
at a time

and us
one shake one tear one
laughter

at a time fighter
combatting the evils
of the humans
splurging out
of the news
like no tomorrow

but you and me
and
us
we cant afford
to dwell on every moment of that
vector

or the quasar might combust
from their rancid hearts

You and me
love like a
memory
moving
towards the better
times for you and me now
and them maybe
some day

so you and me
kid
kissing our way out of their
problems
with this love

and us
yall and them
taking the trickle

that we took from
them

the good ones

Stephen Jules Rubin
Santa Fe NM
late feb 2018