Riding a jerky montage of daily chores
I trundle towards a sunset
waiting to add my fire to its coals.
Hope leaks through day-tight rooms
spilling over tomorrows
that struggle to become today.
Time washed us shores apart.
Miles that shores stretch
sometime somewhere fetch
a puddle in time the size of a dime
that draws you up close, nose to nose,
memories struggling in the eyes.
Every touch
becomes the orgasm of life itself
and in its throes, you and I
become one, an island
tossing on its swollen seas.
Time storms through moments
that surf its pleasure.
‘tis said strangers
are ships
passing in the night.
some dare to lay anchor
close to each other.
to explore
the waters around them.
often they do not regret.
