the soft veneer of these asphalt intricacies

Our shoed feet travel

these asphalt rivers,

swimming more than walking,

feeling this dawn’s tribulation,

neither of us providing answers

to the equation of us.

Certainly we mean more

than mathematics, yet

understanding our equator

lies southward, a direction

we slowly move like ptarmigans

and geese as winter shovels

itself in great quilty clumps

and our hands discover the

life and sweat of each others’

hands, knowing this tangle

will become an intertwining.

Organic branches and stems

deliquescing in time to fit

our created mold that will

never cease molding anew,

we forge familiar routes

into the back pages of

journals etched by experience

as we open our pages and

read each others’ lives.


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