Washboard ripples,
moving lines of force
In paper-thin foam,
slow across glass,
The loosening curtains
that exist for us only as beauty,
As purposeless as we believe
our lives to be ...
The last spike of peach holds on
against the human mind.
Everything else has been denied,
by being understood.
The wall called understanding
has been placed here between us
As the mystery still
feverishly swirls.
You want to know
because you already knew
And were waiting for the moment
to connect.
But now you are disputed.
My lusts, my drives,
How could she
know me anymore?
