from puppet show to liquid film
our stories first leaned
across that tall table,
past places danced through
speaking selves
then the
frozen melted, flooded
the fore came into focus
as background blurred
everything had that
delightful disorientation
called significance
everything was oh so silly
and present, we were no longer
puppeteers of the past
our idle bets were taken seriously
and new friends were chosen
as they chose us, for a look, a laugh,
a great warmth; we laughed and spun
and unfolded across the night
food resumed the protocols of time
spice a clock upon our lips
and time split forever when you said
that our lotus of fries was an onion.
though sequence reasserted itself
through taxis and keys, through it all
I still felt myself to be
the lucky captured lens.
~~
on waking up two hours late
but with still a chance to make
the flight, reluctantly set out on
principled feet, though my head
not hungover just not yet sober
wished for mild disaster, some
excusably unavoidable delay.
alas, all went smoothly
except my tired packing,
whose two shirts were identical
and cold for the flight, and whose
lack of cash forced me to make a
new friend for a visa loan upon arrival