Come here,
what we evade now
shows up, sooner
or later. We've
been there, some
time ago, another
voice ping-
ponging us back
to ourselves, ping,
pong, ping, fuck:
not this again.

Infant goslings
and web pollen
in the sun drift
across the water
as I smile at you
so far off in cloud-
shape that I shudder
when you come between
me and the sun.

Now, what we evade
comes, here, too.

05/22/2007

Posted on 05/22/2007
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