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to life that suddenly happens,
to wet, tired, worked faces,
to chaos in screams, to corners, to soothing and spurt
to afternoons in which you steal thoughts
but essentially and ultimately to words:
on keyboard, in books, hanging from billboards,
reigning among waters, wasting, inventing;
to his words, leaving to yesterday,
to her words, waiting a turn of the clock...
to the game with my mom, guessing her choice,
to the whispered, yelled, intensely forced,
mystifying words we make love with, perfectly lost...
but universally abandoned to your unspoken word.
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