Look at where we are

You, sitting quietly in the space across the wire

Pensive and porcelain, hands clasped

together to give an appearance of weight, withholding

the delicate droplets of sentiment

collected generously, so far, in the network

of your veins.

Me, waiting patiently for something lucid

to manifest, withdrawn

with utmost equanimity

from the entanglements

of your fermented yesterday.