Firsts.
He wrote:
Pretty is for moon
and stars in crowds.
Cute is for rabbit
and bunny-shaped clouds.
Beautiful are things
that weaken one’s knee.
And, sometimes, dear,
you are all three.
She wrote:
I am waiting for rain to
fall on the windows of
this moving vehicle, waiting
to see the silver streaks,
drop by drop, shivering,
quivering, moving down
down, down – thoughts
that quiver, shiver from
dream to dream, from
my mouth, words to yours,
from my hand to your
neck, my eyes, shut even
if it was not night, when
we entered this, moving
thought bubble, spans
the quivering, shivering
distance between your
mouth, your words to
mine, as this vehicle rolls
and that distance shivers
and quivers, on and on,
as I wait for the rain.
