wish we were just lips and emotions,
no need for anymore form to our being.

swallowing each's breath, laden with
warm molecules of carbon, spent oxygen.

and nothing more, just bellow-breaths
of unjustified opposite emotions.

we could become.
we would become.

but presently our lips spew memories
of the mean streets of youth,

leading us into a dervish dance
of me, mine.

until we pile, in parallel stacks,
all our unused time.

trying to make a trade
for meaning.

08/03/2005