sun and earth

perihelion; 

we perch, our tall chairs pushed tightly together

at a square table opposite the bar (no room 

at the inn) the wine, an aged italian dripping 

lusty barnyard moonlight and black pepper,  

absorbs perilously short range pressured rays

the impact will throb in the morning, but for the moment, 

it's safe here, leaning closer for your

didactic confidences painting portraits

twenty years young and centuries old

i perse my lips, pondering a list of sweets

Go on, you say, it's your choice, you continue, 

I know decisions are difficult, and you pause. 

i feel you watching me.

i let the wonder linger.

hazelnut and chocolate, or something new, something

sunflowery, olive oil and grapefruit. cream. pistachios. 

i've already had my first anchovie tonight, ah well--

qui ne risque rien n'a rien. 

i catch our waiter's eye.

something unbearable traces the etches in the thick ring 

you wear on your right hand; spells of it dance twisting the blue, i know 

your eyes are still smiling at mine. i don't let myself look again,

one more glass of wine. one more stolen story from your magpie lair.

any second, we'll shift; i'll move, you'll stay the same.

i'll drift back, back,

away.

aphelion:

apart.