This isn't rocket science; when we
aren't being wise, we're peaceful.
Sometimes, we meet,
then part, then meet
again, and part some more—
like the garrulous wavecrests
of a teeming prismatic
but otherwise taciturn sea.
At times, we speak
easy and casual across the distance,
confident as passing clouds polluting
the blue sky with matter-
of-fact revelations, with ideas
which are edge-less and vague
and so pure-
ly aesthetic, they meekly fall away.
Other times, we're sitting still
or standing
quietly
side-by-side—no blasphemy
without faith—as we each become
the dream of the other
and so can no longer possibly
treat each other like meat,
not merely indulging
the prodigal silence,
but candidly, equitably
splitting it—50/50.
