Your curls are my desire.

I am always late to class.
and I like the tweed that covers your body.
and as strangers I convinced you
to purchase those shoes.
and now I know how to cook lasagna
in my dishwasher.
But isn't that more wasteful?

Hours fly like scenery
panels past my window
your window, mine
the city will share it's landscapes.

October is the darkest month.
lights flicker with the wind.
stitch a seam to bind our friendship
Breaking thread and breaking nails.

I'm sure you think I'm watching you.
Pasting your face
in lines of ink.
Because I think you're thinking me.
But seldom do these thoughts cross line

for line the lines are travelers.
Making up the twists of our day.
But my lines, unruly; refuse
the straight and structured
Insist and twist and
just can't stop their dancing.