I made an assumption,
a false assumption.
I thought,
we were kindred,
but in reality,
in the actuality of reality.
we are a couple
and in the coupling,
we have occasions of coping.
coping has it relevance
and it reverence.
it abides over the onslaught of insistences.
it demands to survive demeaning.
it has its measures
as well as its ever-developing means.
I thought of us as kindred,
having a higher means,
without the use of language to bind,
riding on the same wave,
not necessarily in the exact same way
but responding and reveling together,
thru each other,
almost as the birth of a common field,
as experience would be the offering
somehow having invisible wings,
taking flight.
out of circumstance,
not so much a here-to-there
but mostly embracing each other
through what is inwardly aeronautical,
somewhat mystical in the passing.
I thought we had left behind
the way couples hike up
and around the mountain
with the common sense of gear
and the tedium of inadvertent usage.
I somehow translated that
into a supposed a sense of destiny
as a consummate direction.
saw sky rather than circumstance.
had reverie above immediacy
and blundered rather than babbled.
I should have been
the sound of running water
but instead it was flash-flood
revisited from the past,
restimulation rather than ribaldry.
my bad.
context did not save me
from your pain,
back to couples
within the coping,
trading wings for boots,
moments for mountains,
celestials for simple kindness.
attempting to put assumptions aside,
search the interface.
find where there is closeness
and expand that universe
far beyond but unto itself . . .
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