I catapulted through the hemisphere,
At full throttle, toward my other universe.
Two words short of a poem,
You spoke to me.
I lost trajectory,
At your good morning.
Selfishly, I imagined you as a comet of flame,
Soaring, against my great deflection, across the lightening sky.
Instead, I crashed, wounded, into your reality,
And limped, deflated, to put our Sunday coffee on.
- Social Graces
- Men of Waikaremoana