It matters who sits next to whom,
and what I think of the arrangement in the dark
as arrangements get obscured and imagination comes down
to make up for weak sense data.
There’s an awkward push, I can tell you’re trying,
using your hands that way—
without the mindless automaticity of one
not deliberating basic motion.
Something in your face is askew,
breath collapses body,
a superficial sink into unruliness, and settling feels to be
a lopsided deal.
“The Now is just this: to be no more
just when it is.”