When our foreheads met
and it was only time
misplaced,
all breath and sweat
lost importance
while matters of
jigsaw bones and fated lips
met in patterns too great
for mere words.
And with the tingle,
a small ribbon
of tender thinking
unfurled,
a kiss tossed
to a jet stream.
Dancing with crickets
You can blame the rain
on a crazy dance
of hair (it’s electric!)
or the boogie-woogie
of moonbeams
as they dally with crickets,
but all it means
is you’ll be wet and breathless
by dawn.
Feel the end of me,
terror fading to light pain
before the sun dies.
We travel toward the same sun
on different planes,
only once in awhile
our lights glance together.
