I offered you a million dollars
to be with you and sleep with you
for one day.
it is now a week later.
I have not written the check
that you have already torn up.
conversation between us became a landscape.
clouds of shared emotions shape themselves
as we see serenity, bonding and delve roll by.
I am embarrassed about the money thing,
you, about the neediness from not being seen.
we have found a way to dance in that darkness
as if mood was song to saver one’s soul.
I can’t understand how we so absurdly met.
you can’t believe who you thought I was.
we can laugh into a mutual warmth.
when was a week measurable?
but I can’t really ask that of itself
since our time is liquid in the making.
was it that I had money
and you had this un-disclosed-ness about yourself?
I can’t say, we are a blaze
but surely we are a soothe and soulful.
we have keen skin together
and profound unsaidness compliments us
with constancy as if a song softly sung.
does destiny have headwaters
and streams of beings meet when that is so?
maybe there was never a beginning
just a pretend that way
for sanity purposes
in the time-frame and culture of the act out
that we will venture into
as we continue the unravelling
of the two of us
mystified into being the one . . .
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