whispers

this is a confection, a
meringue,

melting on my tongue
even now

but even while it
will fade, is fading,
as we all cascade past fixed points in time

you will stay in my mind this way:
lithe, pale,
dark eyes,
hard muscles,
a surprise of soft skin and
gentle touch and
the
joy
that
makes me
laugh.

the edges of everything softened by the darkness,
the decadence of beer and late night and memory,
the outlined brilliance of drama and discovery.


Is there ever a present that
won't make me look
ahead to how I will remember it
with affection when it is done?