knees bent the world remains riding the axis
as it is indifferent to the ball you throw
would the earth tilt
as you rupture the wind's pressures
to me the pleasure would
in your hands and only yours
i lean on the wrong side of the boat
to feel something that is not supposed to be there
towards you only prodding
taking three traipses back
to where i begun and remain
a story i will read over and over again
the engines ignite to take off
the floral sight
the bright sounds
the ocean's breeze
the fragrance of miles to cover would not feed the hunger of physical touch
