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A touch on the face, after
A fleeting kiss, a smile
Speak more of love than the hurly burly that went before
However fine

A brushing back of hair at the temples
A laugh, or sometimes a tear
Signal that the meeting of bodies just past
May be more

Love may be prepared over months or minutes
With care or thoughtlessly
And it may be forged in the heat of skin on skin
But is after, in the cooling time
That love is proved

i loved you once and you have forgotten
as time shifts
its lilting siren
call sparkles from the dark
in the cracked windshield
along its pained lines

here my eyes meet yours in the rearview
smoky
the (intense and never beautiful)
girl i.m wont to be
left speeding away
a train to the past

i fall to sleep. it is snowing in montreal.

She lies beside me there, afterwards, in the darkness. Her skin much cooler than mine as I slowly glide my fingertips over the arm she lays across my chest. I touch my hand to the back of her neck and softly stroke her hair. She gently purrs there as she smiles. A cheshire cat. I think of nothing. I smile, indulge my senses. My breaths are long and low now, as I try to divide the serenity and weariness, but the calm takes me over as a breath of air cools the sweat that glazes over my skin. My eyelids fall slowly and open half again, my hand shifting like a wisp over her skin. Her sigh echoes through our bodies like a tremor as she turns. "You would make such a partner", she whispers. I half unrest, and puzzle what this makes me now.

Thoughtless, restless,
my muscles are graceful in a way that they
have never been before.

He's fresh, lying against the sheets
I brush his hair away from my face
temporary worry.

Lie slack in the
half-lighted morning, Sunday rises
astonishing me for the sparkling.

Free, lazy, hazy,
The air is lighter and clearer than before
golden dried sweat and happiness.

Our first time
Never liked the phrase
too final for what I want.

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