her kisses fall soft, electric lips brush mine. [it was in the night when i saw her, leading edges held close by lightning and lycra, but this was the first night i saw her, eyes i fell into, something out of amaranthine dreams, out of the scent of the lotus-flowers; as we slept,] water sounds rush over, my pulse dashes on. [i pointed out Orion's belt, the jeweled sword, the hunting dogs, on the back balcony while she mentioned her knowing pain and the lust for oblivion (which we both fell into), something out of timeless cries, satin voices taunting as we parted,] wait now, dancing floors sway dizzily, i fall, [she asked me to stay, she was veiled and a mystery, built from thoughts like bone, she pulls me to her side, speaking soft the words of a song, something out of saccharine lies, murmured with pale hope, and weary faith which was] slipping down through floors and ceilings, back here. [exhilaration like nothing i've known, a plastic stress built from unstructured sentences and the light fixture which stayed humming between us, moaning out brown light, but this was something out of my mundane dreams.] lips part. slip down timid walls like death. Timothy A. Clark 1997