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In my world

In my make-believe world
where it’s always safe to be naïve,
a rigorous and disciplined dancer
her deftness and lightness, her touch
passes through time and continually
changes, passes and arranges
unpredictable steady states

We disturb arrested time—
pointillist, geometric, static,
mute and objective
So I put on my best shirt
and wait for her to show
Old-time politicians know
how much can be done

with a wink and a nod
They know the language
of slick patterns, the efficacy
of machines and the
violence of factories
Work was precarious
Life, often unbearable

Civilization stripped of its skin
in the middle-time, in the middle
She haunts me—
Our molecules clasp,
intersect, grab at each other
She haunts me sexually,
her supple, soft body touch

The new age of hope
disappeared in the trenches of WWI,
in tiny red-necked oligarchies
A single mind can achieve coherence
She became that magical phenomenon—
great, rare, popular and profound
The problem is when we see

No, the problem is that by looking
we disturb the fields beneath,
disturb the choreographed chemistry,
blithely indifferent to our mendacity
as though reality is every particular state
that could exist until we look and yet
we will look and we will see

I did this for years—
I scold her in my mind but
understand—her fascinations,
her unflagging devotions
In my world of make-believe where
it’s always safe to be naïve she returns,
she’s here and she still loves me 

-March 23, 2019-