love secrets, II

I breathe in a figure of eight
joined like two ovals
I send letters without stamps
writings in bottles to a sea.

follow your heart filling,
you are an adventure.
enjoy the final minutes
under broken stars we discover

we'll never get used to this,
under a forest of desert pine
the moon on a different axis
under broken stars we discover

the creek where we forgot our clothes
slowly, like gazing at a Koons or the man
who counted age in numbers of days
10,248 and counting.

the ghost of Phillip swims beside me
I swim to my room where I prefer the bed
close to the floor, where Conrad prefers
empty boxes, crates and where

the needle entered between toes
fingers interlock at the lumbar.
so tell me, from a layer in each sky
that we'll never get used to this. 

the thing about mountains

misha's house