Did you remember to burn off the turner, to light on the click, to alight on three and we land in the pool. I remember not the pool but you, snow, moonlight (veiled). Songs, started but unfinished, bottles emptied of their sweetness but you are not, no, never emptied of your significant stores of loveliness and a kind of wisdom I’m in awe of.
There was for me a moment of itching-to-grasp but I wisely (admiring you) put my fingers to work on a drum, on the stovetop, on paper with crayons and in my pockets caressing a little card I keep, I keep.
I’m gonna keep it to myself, this, time.
I’m gonna keep me all to myself. This time.
I have my secret knowledge I smile at, I think beatific dancing dewdrop thoughts and my hands and feet are juggling and jumping on the firm earth of my tensionless present tense, less involved in future possibly maybes but very much in love with the faces in the crowd around the table where we feast on the richness of the present. Our shoulders relax and our smiles widen. Our cheer and tiny aprons and mellifluous voices like ear-chocolate.
