Our heart is a stack of bricks, we hand back and forth,
a pulsing, unintentional rhythm, paced to build
a cozy home, or a retaining wall.
Face to face, we sit, clutching
generic porcelain mugs,
marking our bodies like price tags.
We share a triangle pastry
blotched in red corn syrup
which we agree is fruit.
To love God is to love each other, you say,
ripping a piece to save.
I bite in a corner to taste,
Loving each other means loving God?
We leave, satisfied by starch,
thoughtless about the crumb trail we leave behind.
Fasten seatbelts, prepare
for separate houses.
Busy crossroads tiring rubber, friction. Yellow,
Is it time or intention that makes green? Design?
Staring at the stop sign, shift
in your passenger seat, feel
yourself stick, suspended
by his sedan.
Night after night
stiff yellow bodies
holding the heat of space.