Oval Orbit

The epoch of you noticing me
is upon us, and the epoch of
my noticing you is at an end.

The time has come for me to look
straight ahead as you talk of all things
whereas the time has come for you to dwell
in every spasm and eyelash when I speak.

A rennaisance of cool is underway in the now
highly domed ceiling of my mind while
your dank hallways reflect only the hopeless
black of inappropriate desire.

On the cusp of our next rotation we will
brush lightly, just enough to know where
the other has been, but not enough to
remember, or act.