Mirrors The rolling streets, rolling cities, the pavements run away beneath our feet and Nothing comes from our time in the grass but seconds, and breathing, hands and mouths curling smoke.
Rockbound thoughts hang between dusksoaked fingertips and in some untouchable soul’ s hazy static of Want( we all want; we’ re all half, some of us less, but no more) and we own the nights, the half-strange streetlight glow
and with shaking hands we hum through streets that rain onto skin and billow into future, until one stomachdrop day we’ re there in the Moving Forwards, in the Clutching at Air.
Take away the love-in-disguise and leave behind sweaty torture, something lost in the night; take away the softwarm Reflections( seeing my twilight laugh in your eyes), and all we have left is stoneclosed emptiness and the metalring of rails.
46