There is nothing magical here
Only occasional temporary traces
Of tango-like steps
Left on the snow white ground
Near the place where I
Occasionally lay down to
An intimate moment
And a soft music
Filling the air
with some particular magic;
Ah, Ah, facts, general, specific
do not make a big fuss about!
Sometime it’s sweet
Sometime it’s bloody
Sometime it makes sounds
Sometime it stares and smiles!
And then the next song
And then the next voice
And the breath-ins and the breath-outs
And the turn-lefts and the turn-rights ...
And then I try to follow
Those traces that intersect
And diverge before our time
Comes up, and I say:
I think it’s snowing again,
And I need to figure out
what color it is this time!
And you whisper “was that cum-
your emotional brain
or was that cum-
your logical brain?”
And then we both laugh!