nite
fishing
on
opposite
bays
catching
our
hands
in that
old
familiar
way
casting
our lots
into the
unknowable
pool
with
silent
exchanges
&
placid
moods
u clung
to me
frayed
wanting
to be
bound
i hung
to u
dazed
wanting
to be
found
the
sound of
stillness
sprinkling
between
the
longitudes
&
platitudes
&
luminous
beams
of dawn
approaching
to lite
the sky
our lanterns
are dimming
terrains
left to
climb
our lips
are swimming
in the
luxury
of
time
the
moment
entwined
beyond
reason
or
rhyme
an
accidental
meeting
if
memory
serves
a buddhist
a sadist
a pretty
can of
worms