I’m sure she knew from my apologetic look
                                                             that my mind had wandered away from her words
                                                             and into how they were a part of our pairing
so she dropped it and we stared together at the horizon
                                                             a deep orange hole in the thick gray clouds
                                                             the sun at its bottom like a fiery hell inverted
                                                             perverse in its lack of direction
it has been reflected back into         what I had to go by which was the solidity of a hand
double vanishing points to no avail         led me in love to a cathartic lack of abstraction
except for a loose grasp of infinity         with only a vague notion that we were each finite
and it is our contingency that creates such love
                                                             a brick on some walkway or your name
                                                             drawn on wet cement no difference
                                                             but to the discriminating I
concerned with the intricacy of its         doubting nothing as everything is dubitable and the
symbol’s intersection how it twists upon        places that we meet frequently in the purist of curved lips become a singular thing-in-
itself more than with the complexity of convoluted ideas         here-we-are and this-is-what-we-are-doing
and the stars slightly beginning are more than                              
                                                              the phenomenon of a picture
                                                              of what could hardly be called a phenomenon
                                                              or if it could what would that provide a crippled objectivity                                                  
a salted slug not a slug but a child’s            self sustaining hydrogen explosions
entertainment a child not a child but a remorseful killer         twinkling through the atmosphere at the tip of Orion’s bow                                                      
who is not a killer but a kid salting a slug        something a bug could never perceive
with such a narrow range of experience datum