stacks

are we done placing
inches between us?
our meager attempt at evading
consequences of locking
eyes too long, the fear
of falling within few chance
brushes of fingertips,
the wayward scents and sounds
of one trespassing
on the other’s senses.

we’ve begun placing
time onto the distance.
stacking up seconds like playing
pawns and royalty over checkered
boards we play on, venue
of a platonic dalliance meandering
in a masquerade, gambling on charade
to wed with hours and tone down
passion to fondness.

are we ants building
a sea wall of crumbs
in the face of an ocean bent
on realizing our ruin, against
an implacable desire dwarfing
our reluctance? we've begun
covering the inches leading
to two roads diverging,
each cluttered with its own flavor
of loneliness



2015.mar.12