"There's not enough time!"
we shriek to the sky.
Holding hands
we run
barefoot through the mud
leaves,
We collapse, laugh, scream
howl madly at the moon.
We roll and stare
wide eyed at the night,
never more alive.
I trace new constellations
--in stars, old night
and tell you their stories
And you smile.
So set on our tales,
we'll curse stars for moving,
throw rocks to try to bring
the whole glittery blackness down.
And then dance through the dust.
We make plans to steal
the first of the sun's rays
as they peak over the hill,
stretch to snatch it up,
hold the light tight in our fists
and ransom it
for just a few more dark hours.
We drive for miles and miles
until we see
Our lights,
climb to the top
And here
alone
atop the world,
our lips meet.
And here
palms pressed to fingertips
pressed lips
and hips
and knees,
bodies ache for exposure
and Summer Night
melts cloth to feet
that press
bare to dirt.
"We're the only two in the world,"
I say,
and you open your eyes
streetlights--traffic lights--headlights
all dark
your laugh and smile
the only sound in
still, office block canyons.
Standing there at the edge of a breath,
we leap
And bounding through, pounding
moonlight and starlight into dust,
we dance,
we collapse,
we fall we fall
at once, into each others arms.
In the afterglow where
Nothing
moves me
from my bed of your breast
of your thigh.
I'd lay there
tracing the lines
of whole, huge glittery blackness
naming those new constellations
telling a story of us
across the sky, we own
telling a story of us
and whatever
Forever.
we shriek to the sky.
Holding hands
we run
barefoot through the mud
leaves,
We collapse, laugh, scream
howl madly at the moon.
We roll and stare
wide eyed at the night,
never more alive.
I trace new constellations
--in stars, old night
and tell you their stories
And you smile.
So set on our tales,
we'll curse stars for moving,
throw rocks to try to bring
the whole glittery blackness down.
And then dance through the dust.
We make plans to steal
the first of the sun's rays
as they peak over the hill,
stretch to snatch it up,
hold the light tight in our fists
and ransom it
for just a few more dark hours.
We drive for miles and miles
until we see
Our lights,
climb to the top
And here
alone
atop the world,
our lips meet.
And here
palms pressed to fingertips
pressed lips
and hips
and knees,
bodies ache for exposure
and Summer Night
melts cloth to feet
that press
bare to dirt.
"We're the only two in the world,"
I say,
and you open your eyes
streetlights--traffic lights--headlights
all dark
your laugh and smile
the only sound in
still, office block canyons.
Standing there at the edge of a breath,
we leap
And bounding through, pounding
moonlight and starlight into dust,
we dance,
we collapse,
we fall we fall
at once, into each others arms.
In the afterglow where
Nothing
moves me
from my bed of your breast
of your thigh.
I'd lay there
tracing the lines
of whole, huge glittery blackness
naming those new constellations
telling a story of us
across the sky, we own
telling a story of us
and whatever
Forever.
