Time blinks, it holds and rolls me flat under it massive girth squeezing the soul juice into droplets that rivulet away into floor seams and roof beams.
Island dreams come next and delicious comfort driven before it, herded and coaxed along my eternal expectancy driving the chaff as I peek behind every corner and doorway, relieved and disappointed by turns when finding nothing but moist air and dust clumps.
Impetuous shelter in red velvet and garden apartments we used the cheese and chocolate to hold back thundering minutes, relenting to the fine pull of strong wine and sifting through the embrace of eyes, skin, hands. Too soon it ends and time readies itself for another brace of change, our fear of its inevitability has been given symbolism as twice a year we demand all clocks and calendars rearrange themselves, a paltry gesture that resides on walls of sand to control the tide.
Now it’s crushing me against the wall as it passes by with a giant load, the vacuum of its wake with invisible hooks urging me to follow, demanding that I recognize.
Stockings and candles and rapturous smellings provide more than distractions, letting my mind-heart torrent relax, not looking behind doors or breaking silences with a sigh at least for a short time.
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