On this night I sit
in the back alley of dreams, of two-some minds
in mid-spring bloom - right now
when we none of us can fail or care
to know the future.
I knew your face before, it sang
beneath the shades of unsung trees
etched on my life line –
eyes for embers and mouth for mirror
covered with black velvet.
I started like a bird this night, a cooling drift
across my midriff; and all that was,
was fair, we’ve come