Homeless
Out past the town walls, its carnival lights
give way to green behind hedges
and the silvering river
slopes alongside us among fields.
But your red mouth says, “We cannot touch,
nothing ever touches anything,
even intimate particles repel,
mere sensory illusions form
to swarm the crazy patterns in our heads.”
So now I say, “May graves close up old
shadows that twist across our inner paths.”
And even if I am not going home,
and cannot ever have a home without you,
I can walk still embracing you
though no future walls enclose us.