mostly him... some of her

the distance

between

him and her
isn't so much
an issue of space
but moreso
a subscription
to space and time
he gazes away
in her presence
staying silent
slipping away
into another dimension
where they reference
with preference
a place to settle
stainless steel
or black
kettle
for kitchen
a love seat
where love sits
and takes in
the view
over the polis
he thinks of
time well spent
doing nothing
but laying
and letting
desafinado
float
and fall
around
and amongst
them
he reminisces
on smiles
syncopation
serious tones
and slight touches
in hushed moments
as if it had
occured before
but quickly remembers
the distance
between
him and her
is akin to
him going northbound
her south
and stopping
for a moment
if that
distance
is fact
and the rest
is the most beautiful
of fiction
so beautiful
that to pursue
could present
friction
and positions
that could
have him wishing
the distance was
further than
where
his courage
could reach
his stupidity
could stand
and his heart
could lead
a last stand
in no man
and no woman's
land
him and her
etched freshly
in the sand
for the tide
to rinse and wash
while he repeats...