we study each other’s bodies, each other’s flicker
and gaze of the eyes, and
gestures of long fingers
which tear the leaves
apart or touch the tips
of pine trees
on our way to the wide wide shore, fingers
that fiddle with a box of cigarettes
or part through the waters
beneath the surface.
we study our way into getting intimate through talks
and walks, then into
without all the words, but only a cadence
of our fleshly desires.
we study until we study no more,
and for a few days that become
we become used to each other, each other also used to
being in one’s own world.
but then, there’s a looming
we don’t know when, so we try to study again,
waves break to make way
what are days but a disguise of the lifetime?
or so I believe.