Tuesday, July 20, 2010

some far off place

The last time will never be the last time. There will always be words--fantasies-- and those heart breaks that cause you to smile deep inside. We are between moon and sun. The night smells of juniper and salt water. It's high tide and you are throwing secrets into the sand and foam, while I toss invocations of seduction at your silver painted toes.

At the end of a feather from a bird that cannot die, there is world that begins when I am inside of you. There is always that moment when our paths cross--the sea in front and behind--all that surrounds goes black, white, gray--the shades in between. Then comes the delicate moment when she becomes my silent movie queen.

The lie she told was betrayed by her kiss. The salvation we saw on the other side of the accusations wasn't enough to prevent the common drift that surprised us both. There was little injury. The knives were out, but they never kissed the flesh. Because it was never meant to be the last time I'd smell your sweet perfume.

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