recreating moments past
time bubbles,
knots of anti-boredom
against the tide,
philosophies, poetries,
under roofs and skies and . . .
trees, like memories
like electronics shops
and spice bazaars
and summer's kisses.
I need more.
I need you,
to live;
then is gone,
here am I, and . . .
trees, like fantasies,
like 2 a.m., dark and quiet,
your body gently rising falling,
like slipping back to sleep, and
awaking to your kisses . . .