Nature of Convergence

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     In a geometric pool of
     turquoise light
                   you are
     submerged
                    your glistening
     shoulders bathe
     in a stream
     of golden hair,
     face upturned
My camera doesn’t work and
I must accept the
ephemeral nature
of convergence:
     the position of the sun,
           your posture,
my focal point
I tell you you’re safe with me and
           you tell me
           whatever you want
     as we lie on our backs
     and gaze at
     ceiling shapes
     our limbs drape,
     blanket each other
     like kittens
I ask Do you want to
start a band?
     and
            You say
           Abso-fucking-lutely not
     not ever,
     ever after
     through the tears
     of our shared laughter