Xenogamy

Before: I didn’t know

the walk of shame,

three-hour brunches,

reefer jackets, Manners

or life-long friends.

Mine: a peculiar contingent

intersection in a

small universe overlooking

intricate infinite complexes

of puppeteers’ talking-doll strings.

Hers: a deep ineffable nest

of myriad relationships embedded

in a densely packed

palimpsestuous village.

Now: a compromised castle

on my side of the river

and her side of the tracks.

//ends

>> month of poetry 2012