I am finding that the less I say the
better now and it is not because of
regrets of past comments, conversations
or drunken confessionals at the bar of
intimacy lost and found, give and take
for heaven's sake, if I keep anything
it will be those laid bare if you dare
moments of discovery being friends.
Listen. I don't believe myself at all.
My words are syllables bouncing off walls.
And even listening to you I hear
gongs and cymbals, trumpets and flutes, music
in tempos, metered and chaotic, rise
and fall of emotions that awaken
mirrors in me to reflect the same back
into the room of lights that spark and fire.
But listen again. I still have a blast.
But I am watching now, not listening.
I am seeing through, through to you and I,
and I can see you too are seeing through
to me and we are losing touch with this room
and the things herein, in the big spin in
the vast cloud. We lose our self importance.
So when you see me laughing, sitting on
my own, staring off in wonder, you know.