Breaking is everything     my dear

don’t knock so softly if you want to wake me

this pattern is a fact – don’t block it out

we are living in one possible street

awash as it is with traces of desire

white light that splits the emptiness

our conversation branches

divergent as we head back up the hill

wishing for another sack of coffee beans

the sound of rain on metal precedes

the words that crawl across an empty page

an uncleared space between the fences

it’s just another quiet weekend

we found the iron table     latticed and rusting

remembered the invention of the wheel

rolling across the surface of a plane

angles bleeding into a wash of purple

fingers stained for the second time today

it could easily have been a day for the forest

endless     as it covered the slopes

our feet trudging into another tomorrow

don’t stay in your own space     supine with fatigue

we shall imagine this as a carefree reunion

almost as if we really knew each other.