- i.
- I stand at my window
- and watch rain lap,
- then shed off mountain facea.
- You stand at your window
- and watch fog seeping in
- to short out neon lights, once
- spelled ROOMS. you walk up
- cement hills, hang on cablecars,
- finger for quarters and transfers.
- I climb rooted footpaths,
- dodge squirrels, hide
- acorns in my pockets.
- You are my protagonist;
- my life imitates yours like
- soot pretends soil, only
- you are my motive.
- This village is your city
- and I live here, for now.
- I stand, anticipating you
- some torment, some storm pulling
- morning away from night, persuading
- my skin
- waits for you to breath it.
- ii.
- The rain quits the sky.
- Fog rolls back, its tongue
- into your mouth
- again; the acorns splinter
- through cloth into my thigh.
- The neon sign LOVE flashes,
- electrifies, blinks into the dawn
- your lobster white dawn.
- iii.
- We stand at our windows
- watch, separate
- drops of water
- tingle on high wires,
- balance on pine needles
- sway dangerously in either air