You

Across from me
Your back
A mountain range
Warm and yet
Untouchable
Gently heaving in and out
The things
That we do not discuss

Swimming

Arms reach over and over
Bending windmills
Through the water

Laps across the blue
Lapse of time
To dive into

There are no sharks
In the chlorine bath
Follow the impossible
Invisible path

Eyes shut tight
And fingers fused
Kick until your legs
Are bruised

Quiet

Body heavy against the chair
Elbows heavy on the table
Holding an old postcard
Up to the light

Rat Race

We
Flying down
Long paved corridors
Almost brushing shoulders
In our metal machines
Of death

We
Scramble about
For a bit of trash
A bit of something
That smells good
But burns
All the way down

The day is too long
But never long enough
And
To be ahead
Is only
To be
A
Head