It is a lane for slow walkers:
a graduated pipette carefully
dispenses just enough
(chemistry)
A process of preservation.
We won't flash-freeze
our Familiarity.
Avoid brittle bones;
We will, gently,
chill it.
But
Each time I look at you
Is like a museum visit.
The uniformity of the mole
by the ridge
of your nose
Is a monument
to my nostalgia.
Like Grand Central,
in lieu of tired metal:
You are even sweeter,
For my pink-eye.
A journey of recovery.
The supple
hearts can afford
this cost
of overcompensation.
It is bad math
(good economics).
The colder it gets, the warmer
Last summer becomes.
