Your past,
Swirls around me,
Licks my toes and disappears
Like froth, that piggybacks on waves.
Your past,
Blows salt through my hair
Small crystals, armor plate my ears
From sounds, which are neither you, nor I.
In some parallel place
Your past has us pouring over poetry by night
Riding the last train home,
Drunk, on sugar cane juice.
In some parallel place
I’d know your beardless face
Trace metal in our blood
As we walked around the abyss.
In some parallel place, you return home
Lie awake and wonder
How it is you can smell me on your skin
When we had not even touched.
Hullo Liminality 