facing decaying brick walls and i remain fixated with the I/you binary:
i, an abbreviated thought
you, a run-on sentence
we, a fragmented phase
no, not a phase, but a phrase
no, even that is too giving
perhaps we are a feathered hat floating on the moon
or a whisper heard when eavesdropping on the sun
probably an obscure gesture breathing in the summer air
but, there's no wisdom in this ageless and one-sided emotion
that twists, turns, and twirls--a talented dancer--
into a sinuous silence that breeds
this is neither calculated nor edited.
it remains a vague, if not empty, signifier.