Like a Rubber Band that Will Never Break

Rain falls the way rain is supposed to fall,

the way we were promised it would fall

as we hug in the drizzle.

Occluded electrical suns,

disembodied as jobless pigeons, bloom in the slanted

depthless night.

Our grips affirm our beings,

our pasts, presents, futures,

what’s been said, done, thought, and lived

while completion completes itself infinitely

in circular revolutions of completion;

I know of validation and acceptance.

Waterproof in the night, distress evaporates

as we impart love extra-linguistically,

our bodies an unbreakable formation.

Exile ends as life torrentially floods my veins.

We stretch together, finding consummation

on an abacus of addition.

No amount of hugs could ever detract

from their ability to affirm

something in some place

for which I need no words,

for which no words hold relevancy

because the pervading silence of the moment

lightens our burdens and diminishes polarity.

Our wrapped arms know more than our minds

as the rain dampens our hair

until we release and return from a world of two

to a world of billions, ready for anything.


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