promenade

a snarl of pedestrian traffic
in fine periwinkle threads
and the first pastels of the year

to see and be seen
and be seen again

he says aesthetically the mirror interests me
she says can you believe my luminosity

the rarest embellishments
lavished upon the scene
such drama of color and potency
while fantasies become
a mere habit of the mind

promenade

reading of palm

she graped my wrist
pulled my hand closer to her eyes

she decifered
a language from before everything

when our hands were of wet clay
and they impressed our destiny into soft skin

she offered one last elucidation
my hand close to her eyes

you are a new soul
and it all made sense

why the planet’s spin
always threw me off balance

why i could not understand
the language between you and i

a language from before everything
when our hands were of wet clay
and they impressed our destiny into soft skin

reading of palm