Window Washers In Love

Window Washers In Love

By fog funneled light we saw one another
and took it for guidance. Your presence held me:
fixated spray. Think of it. For a moment spirit
drifts, suspended unburdened, some stillness
stirred giddy.
How could it happen---
the simple pressing of a button, the bottle's
contents a risen lock, now a fountain's cascade.
Airy as carbons, what shoots forth expands,
stands, an instant space.
I wiped the glass. Nothing miraculous, right?
So why was breath taken and, love, yours also:
looking, a collision, the strange pane of froth
clean with correspondence---
Maybe I'm too introspective. Here, try again.
The mystical mica mist, a net of soft silver,
iron filings, wet otherness flecks
with us, apparitions, I, the lot-hoser, drunk
from maintenance, and you
who are---
bubble blurs, mirage, the
soap's patchwork map, this
radiant squeegee slippery
where I am now, a ripple
ammonia and vinegar wrung
with something like parting.
Look, wipe once more, recognize
the reflection, my own silhouette now
in dissolve, backing off. So how come--
Surfacing, on the other side,
eye contact intact, sponge
in your hand, sun upon suds:
Barrier or no barrier, I step close, meld sleek, then
porous with water
We are one with nothing lost