riffing (on a greyhound): #2/7


I see
your lips
are cherry red

in the window movie
you sit close
beside me

streetlights play
across your body

with every sway
our bodies touch

the soft
and hard
of a journey
and its celluloid reflections

double blurred on glass
on trembling glass
that holds my fingertips
as fogged place-holders
where your breasts
are drawn

shapely suggestions
while the bus dreams on
and I dream on
and the destination
due north


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