Staring fixedly ahead, I step
Around you again, hoping that
You don't notice that I still
Sense where you are by the
Sound of your shoes on the floor.

We move in perfect symmetry
Along mirrored paths, and
I am aware in my mind's eye of
The form of the crescents as if
They are stage lines drawn
Out in chalk below our feet.

You seem to take a dim view
Of such synchronisation,
Viewing it as something I
Contrive as a complex way
Of following you.

Were I not so negative, I might
Consider that you just don't
Want any interruptions, or
That I have found you at
An inappropriate moment.

Thankfully, my self pessimism
Is not as all pervasive as
Once it was, so your face will
Not be a nightmare. It will
Merely be translated from
A series of brief glimpses into
An illogical sequence of words,
Pulling it from my memory.

If I have written about you
Before, I won't remember;
My words replace mental pictures
With often indistinguishable
Imitations, their vagueness
Rendering them useless.

12/22/2006

Posted on 02/12/2007
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