We Talk

Now we talk

        slowly

        rarely

        if ever at all    

            about movies

            about news

            about nothing

                    at all

I stick to empty surface streets

and find
no

        meaning in indirect windows


        no substance in silent rooms


How I used to unwrap myself


        in quiet, tender layers

        unfolding, opening

                a night bloom warmed

                touched by moonlight


Now cool and tense

        recounting

our daily bores


        as though


the sum of our uses
equaled

        something more

        something substantial

            while the softer things

                continue to shrivel

                    and our roots

go unfed

        choked

by all

         you will not say

        and all I will not ask

 

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