Unopened wine, left to bubble with champagne,
a long sigh, like a sated woman, the hissing
of the bath when she immerses herself and
sinks beyond the mirrored liquid.
Tired minds, tired limbs, drunk with fatigue and
drudgery of ungratified moments--a breath held,
suspended; like two lovers frozen in time on
the Grecian Urn--arms reaching for but never touching;
moments crystallized, the droplet that never
touches earth.
A party, a celebration. He reaches into the mass of
surprises--a web of mystery of which he might
just be familiar with.
A curve spreads like a half ripple.
The gas expands and bloats the wafer-thin glass and
the bulb explodes POP! MY GOD!
A party; a celebration--like the blackhole sucked out
the light in a blink--unmoving figures in flickering
street lights, languid black figures that move with
dinosaurish grace of cumbersome poise.
The sea floods the room, but
The night was over.