Waiting
for you, inside your version,
knowing already
my
response and attitude but not my lines.
I
am bound to torch a madhouse
of refl-ex-pectations.
I
am sadly looking homeward,
bound
with duplicitous cross-needs.
Finding
myself, a time-bomb in delivery
and
you an irrevocable terrain of embrace.
We
are simply children,
finding each upon the other's table
as our least favorite
food.
Plead
with the Gods
to unhinge our chemistry,
to
allow our common light a different cast
upon the other that we slip into song,
letting
go the binds of slight and insult,
and
that we perceive dance as partnered
before
detached attitudes
invoke our interplay.
Spirit
who dresses us,
call us out of these costumes,
spirit
who prompts our bearing,
unravel this lesson,
unwind
our momentum,
and unsay what this says.
Be
spirit of another way . . .
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