In a private tunnel

In a private tunnel
We say things like "please"
and "kiss me"

Reduced to imperfections
We smell our own armpits
and miss each other

Finally, a nice suit
Perhaps the right touch
when saying goodbye

24 steps
With one landing
at 16

Skinny legs were never an issue
Just a category
for distraction

Chemistry in numbers
A festive balance
of crowds and mistakes

A life in solitude
Sounds good and smells like books
but never translates into "whole"

Forty years or so
May go by without ever saying
thank you for settling

As an afterword
People will gather and speak graciously
about things they knew nothing about
--
3.2.11