your words slip into my ears
like honey dripping from
a spoon
a string of pearls from a white neck
onto
the grey concrete
ripped by a hungry hand

I weave long scarves of longing
across the Atlantic
and I haven't left you yet

my heart pays its rent in advance
a mortgage to the body
trying to retain the heat
of yours
in the memory of  its cells
for times to come

passion don't work that way
baby,
you cant trade it for time and space
slip it under your tongue
so it turns to memory
words that slip into your ears
like honey dripping from a spoon

4/4/07
Brooklyn