and distance char the fingers breath of
connection which lead from hip to heart to hearth and home.
remember a missed phone call and a night spent envious,
smoke stains and great vistas,
of curved legged mountains, turned purple in the sunset,
damp and hungry for another night with hands
full of ashes and body paint grey alone, together,
remember?

Only the life of yesterday,

today and tomorrow.

Mebe.

and past indiscretion.

Haunted by home town hero mythologies,
who remembers vomiting quietly in the corner and walking off
on a dislocated knee?
Train track by the sea shore,
and a night spent truant,
now we hang from the ceiling and count on cards.
They cant all be keepers.

and the help of family
remember babylon?
afternoons in gardens hanged with morning tea,
yogurt in the afternoon,
and the promise of his and her bedrooms,
side by side, books, burrows banners.
Boondoggle.
Doggerel unfit for a dog bowl in babylon.

cat calls late into the night,
a barrier with the words “can you help me” pasted
in bronze leaf over eyes hungry for the promise of daylight.
Remember nights without air conditioning in Chicago,
sweat and air mattresses for breakfast
and the inevitable pumping of hearts
hungry for soft days and downy breezes.

There is no sure ground here,
but we are sure footed.
The days are pregnant with risk
and they are hungry for opportunity.
This is a little clichéd.

Much movement soon.

It was a good day for mail, and mouse/makeup combos.

how long you wait the words do not appear on the page,
the dishes do not washes themselves
and the bed is still unmade.

Syncophony socks,
and boot leather for breakfast,
remember that day?

My fingers are still worn.
Back sore, arms tired, there are important decisions piling
up like the dishes in the sink.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.