Where We Are Now

Tip-tap.

Her eyes followed the runner's strides across the sidewalk outside. The car was trapping the summer-night heat, but the words being exchanged were too private to justify rolling down the windows.

He made looks and uttered words, and words--just a few words, and with them saying so little and so much at the same time. And the question of several months remained, sharp and unyielding.

Three faces--one a ghost of better days, when questions were as small as the worries of a child; one before her, with eyes full of fear and brave conviction; one shrouded in imagination and drawing the blood of hopes both real and unfulfillable.

And that unyielding question which, if a soul cannot be divided thrice stands, exposed and vulnerable-

On the Idiosyncracies of Naivete

And there he is;

The blinding.

Who, can we say, to be fair

Had swept you up

Without a cursory glance;

Who, in his primest moment

Looked you dead in the eye

Only to find yours open at last.