a t i m e

i once brushed up close e n o u g h to touch the ripen ess through you. in time it will come to pass -m a y b e on the street in somewhere, usa- where i will turn the corner of your smile just as you breeze, the way you do, through o u r i n t e r s e c t i n g just then when you might chance to recall my glancing just like t h a t t i m e. for now i hang your shirt up back where you left it hung scented by the time we tossed ourselves, i r o n e d o f a l l t h e w r i n k l e s, cut off from all the threads we spun. left to my wandering the stairs, o p e n i n g t h e d o o r, i come to, n o w a n d t h e n. i r o u n d t h e m i n u t e just after this time i speak of and the hour just before you were gone. this is where that curve hits me. and i turn my head to l e a d m y p r a y e r s back to the pillow w h e r e y o u o n c e u p o n a t i m e did you lay? a n d w h e r e y o u, t h i s t i m e, w i l l e v e r t i l r e m a i n.