All of us
pathless, running
shouting silences
we wend and wander
towards a place
where we both were
and are

Hit-or-Miss kisses
and brushes of taste
where sweetnothingbreaths
are as normal as
the skin you're in

So we keep sweeping
the dust and dew
off of heartstrings
playing symphonies
of dischord

plucking me
nailing my tremolo
distortion
is clarity
to me

when we touch in
time and space
our own
no truth
in glances or
touches

just a game we play
with no rules or objective
yet cheating is there
and unneccesary roughness
is the call

and we'll keep playing
this sporting-life
til' we drop

10/11/2003

Posted on 10/12/2003
Copyright © 2024 J. P. Davies