Your Smile Is a Spell

Your eyes smile
Your words
Entrance

Outside your flat
Inflated with desire
Smoking
I wait for a glimpse
A chance to talk
Like we used to

Before you stuck me
On a list
In a box
On your shelf



~ ~ ~



You Looked Up From Your Book

and spoke, not unanchored words
or keystrokes
and not your own words either

I could try to list, scientifically,
all the current parallels
of which you are not aware
but all this madness is trivial
compared to the moment

My diary is updated
by paragraph or chapter
and if the book is finished,
OK – but it won't sit easy
on any shelf



~ ~ ~




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