whatever the metaphysics
of such things––
we are we
together in this
where & when
& we love like
angels in this
who knows why
such a dream this is
made of searching hands
& reaching eyes
& curious bodies that leave
footprints
in this temporary
here
on a spinning planet
circling a traveling
sun in a spiraling
galaxy in a measureless
universe which is just
as plausibly one
among many as
not
what a joy for us
to be free in this
endlessness
the magnetism of us
erases the separateness
of otherwise
the reality of our mythology
escapes gravity––
we are––
sweet nothings that
sing