Staring, you look for clues.
Where is the evidence, the proof.
In your stare, I watch myself gazing,
enamored, at skylines,
or blinded by a pine cone in hand.
Love, when it stays, is traceless.
Whose hand stretched first offering is no matter.
The bodies press together in their many ways.
The one coarse piece of cloth drapes us both
and softens on the curves of our bodies
and our lives fit well.
When two people walk far enough into the distance,
in Passionate Hearts (1996)
LOVERS IN A RED SKY
If only I could enter the paint,
and become one with the paint,
we could fly across the red sky
over the charcoal outline of the town.
I could show you my breasts
above the white skirt of my wedding dress,
and wrap my arm around your head like a charm,
gazing at your face, looking into your eyes.
The yellow fish would leap over death!
Gabriel would bring us baby’s breath!
The bird of hope would flutter by like a butterfly,
opening to the future, closing to the past.