Qualia

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I.

two wanderers
meet on the road
which that day
is a frozen food aisle

a glance
a joke
a walk
a spin
a glance
thrill and hesitation
leaning on a car bonnet
with groceries
and a pad of paper
we trade numbers

and part carrying
a thrill.

a day passes…
a date.

comically.
everywhere
i take you
is closed.

so we open a restaurant.

paella and wine
take us through the jangle of nerves
that first furrows your brows
then draws me
with
a gentle urgency

we touch softly
and thoughtfully

you go a little crosseyed.

 

II.

morning
takes us to the gallery
where the lingering hands
of our early chemistry
leave us soft
and languid
sitting in a park
my jacket around your shoulders
your hands
then head
rest on me
and i read to you.

animating
that book
while you dream

III.

you’re dancing
in your room
before i arrive
and you fall around me
naturally
easily

i bring jazz
the pollen trio
that were one of the dozen
random threads
that pulled through
the world
for us to meet.

jazz
takes us out of time
and into our romantic
langour
you stretch on your carpet
under my hands
while we talk

i stretch on your carpet
under your feather
and can’t talk

“I like you too much already.”
you say.

IV.

i find myself
reading your words
deft, layered, paced and complex
your words
as i render them in sound.

i hear them
like an echo of my past self.

i feel an exquisite nostalgia
for myself
in you..

in your passion
your preoccupations
your frustration
and in your talent
a potential
you’re not certain of yet
but that is obvious to me

i sigh blissfully
and laugh
and kiss
the furrowed brow
of your small doubts
on phrasing

I love the cavalier way
you disparage your old words.

V.

Another night
and more reading
leads us to confessions

from both of us
is this getting real?

we roll in each others arms
in our ever touching way
and I nervously question the half-hidden
there was a paused warning the morning before…

you fart
and you are horrified
‘You’ve been holding that in for a while’
I say
laughing a warm laugh
and melting
while you squirm
and tell me to stop smiling

I find this … honest.

i always wait for moments like this.
they seem more real to me
than the delerium
that has been so intoxicating

‘It’s important to me to be honest’
you say, perhaps thinking of a faked cancer girl
in my past
‘Well, while we’re in a confessional mode …’
and i begin to share.

I am less worried now

I’m wary, sure, but
far from being repulsed
I’m calmed by this surprise
of yours
and my hesitation
is the hesitation of someone
drawn too easily forward
to easilly eased by that
particular kind of honesty

I’m candid
“I’d be lying if I said I weren’t shocked”
understates
my fading hesitations
says nothing of my war against jealousy
started so long ago
on principal
and worn by hard practice…

your feet are cold
but mine are hot
we sleep in the sweat of each other
while a storm boils outside

VI.

post toast
and tea
in the cool of morning
we stand naked
across a shower door

i massage your
furrowed brow
while I fold you in my arms
from behind

How many things could this be?
I woke at with worry at 3am
you’re doing it now

VII.

Looking through
your gold hair
in spring sunshine

I feel a hesitation
as I kiss you

It draws me out
knowing that
this might be the last.

I call after you
to call me.

You walk you your car.

VIII.

That night
after a dreamy inspired day
spent apart

you buy a piano
filled with the energy
we’ve made

I gather strawberries
and screwdrivers

But something happens
at her place

IX.

i’m delerious
when i should be wary
in my comfort
I send you this poems first draft

and
in the humm before sleep
and
with what looks like delight

a digitized kiss
marks our end

with an x

Tomorrow you will run.

X.

“Wow. it’s wonderful. thankyou :) xx”

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