March 17, 2007

Overly Cerebral

His kisses fall on my face
like tear drops in the dark
or snow upon water.

I cannot tell where they land, or
what happens to them
afterward. Do they disappear? Do I

absorb them, take them into myself?
And, if so, whose kisses are they, after all,
and falling on whose face? And were they ever

really there? Nights
when you think this way,
there's not much use for kisses.

January 2007.

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