Tuesday, March 9, 2010

You are going on my arm. Do not walk; instead you will merge.

We sat in sand but
Sand sat not on us
I found pieces on my leg in the evening but,
your sofa was already repelling

You are trouble to my words but not to my fingers
maybe my fingers have more courage than I
I know this much is true
for nights with blankets that only cover knees
barely with keys
only with square plastic wrappers
that harshly scratch my face
inside but not out.

We dazed, covering sand and watched gathering
seagulls and foreigners
but more accustomed to home than you and I

Melting crystals was never hard
I payed attention in the kitchen
watched you melt butter with sugar
sugar with eggs
white texture appears
harsher than it was once
more consistent and unique for its state
for its state, much more

I saw when the squares would melt and merge
make dimensions and make clay
so I know

I know that the form is just temporary
what stays always,
is nothing of what I know

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