of a fair copy would undo our slant meeting,
an inflight movie
where we chatted
how life was choosing not choosing.
Joy and gravitation,
the day turned
my book's cover and spine.
The sky blued
vagrant scribblings into print culture,
what shall be clad,
the days whole cloth.
A scribal hand,
A kiss away, a kiss away, a reader's
a reader's little addict
in black pants who would like to
sit in the dust as Heavns other spangles do.
I wrote the answers on her hand
as an alias, trachea
without sound, my signature, bright felon.