There is a sidewalk,
waiting for shoes while
I try to hear another pair.

Who will sparkle in moondust?

I disperse clouds with inertia
that tends towards anything, but
love is friction.

There is a city composed in
beams of starlight, within them
a window of distraction –
Of future lovers,
their quavers.

Can I improvise my desire,
to share a cloud,
in the entropy of my cells?

Anyone that wants to measure
the transparency of space
by my flickering eyes.