The morning assembles like so many edgeless thoughts
congealing as a strata on our sleep-weary eyes.
In your sweet, soft-spoken way you greet me
with a kiss much like the kiss our parents shared
when we were young and not yet kissing. The peripheral
notions of our scene slowly wander by and are
the essential currency of our uncharted lives.
The passing of each warm and beckoning night
with its salmon-colored distractions and heavy air
only helps whatever this is to further elude us.
We lie on blinding sheets with an assortment
of dreams delivered like converse suns. We shade our eyes
and sometimes tremble.
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