WITHIN A FINER
DEFINITION OF SELF
I shall not amble and I shall not
wander; seeking only new shores
for this run-down craft to dock.
The sky seems limitless over these
jaunty waters, yet I realize anew
it's all illusion. I'm sure a rain
is brewing, even as I talk.
-
There's no matter to that, and
nothing amiss - for I've grown
accustomed to all these things.
Your gown shadows your body,
though with sunlight behind you,
I still can see through. Nice.
-
Not two hours ago, you were in
my clutches. These boats can float
for hours untethered. No one ever
nears as we drift in our dreams of
each other a'sea.
-
I can't say what I'm meaning, though
I do mean what I say. How far shall
we float? Is tomorrow like today?
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