the clock
tick tocks
in golden variables
every hour malleable
every minute ductile
every second savored
while we are juvenile

I am
in Eden
a mother's
brother but
this chunnel
is surf
London would
scarf to
the sands
therein dawn
as their
bridge was
to cross
the air
with Tim
where in
Times Square

Why does the moon hum a warm tint
in the darkest, coldest, empty night?

The frosty walk home is lonelier with its glow.
I am devoured by the cold and the lack of sound.

My exhale, like a ghost, tries to find a way home also.

do you remember when we still loved each other?

or- we did not know it was love-

we fell asleep together

and did not see each other again