Monday, March 7, 2016

Intimacy & Inflation

It is a lane for slow walkers:
a graduated pipette carefully 
dispenses just enough

A process of preservation.

We won't flash-freeze 
our Familiarity. 

Avoid brittle bones;
We will, gently,
chill it.


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. 

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