sometimes

it’s all in her eyes

from behind a photograph I admire

she may not be the one

but she is someone

and isn’t that more than none?

we meet

at her favorite

cafe by the bridge

the piers look

beautiful tonight

beneath the absent stars

swirling behind the night

near the docks

where it’s dark

so no one can see me shake

when we kiss

and it feels real all over again

or in the parking garage

we can make romance

anywhere

our mouths pressed close

before your car goes

and there’s me walking to mine

skipping in my mind,

fred astaire come alive

in the burning 21st century soles

of a tortured soul spilling words

to make doctors concerned,

but really it’s all just space,

burning away in vain