If You Move In
With Me
Can I still keep my pseudo-Persian rug?
Can I still turn words into non-rational dreams,
conveying my cobwebs of self-derived narratives
gelatinized by globs of imagination?
Can I have friends to drink wine and have
dinner in our space;
would our super massive heads incapacitate
these minute details of other humans?
Can I ride my bike in wet weather?
I’d love to have you dry me in the radiance of your will.
In your honesty, I will be your towel, too.
Can we slow dance in too-small living rooms
for 15 minutes; Miles Davis; Kind of Blue?
I’m not looking forward to sleeping alone,
its all in the process of becoming in love.
Only, I’ve fallen in love alone
and I’m not looking forward to sleeping at all.
-Grant Durando
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