relation ship

giving rise to the mental mischief
before waking early to the durational droning
of water lapping and the spasmodic traffic
it is not the least bit random
confessing in still air, I think of you
when I see your gray weather or a light house
in the blur standing in the fallen doorway
there you are
echoes what I see moving in the distance
at this very moment I hear what you ask of me
the distance greater than red from green
I am simply aging sending home snapshots of chaos
with no escape circling around me
as if I were buried in sand up to my hull
while wrestling a half-tamed demon
and there you are
drenched in reality
a salvage squat with deep scars on its hull
buttressed by rusted steel struts jarring
gaping wounds raw cold imposing
dominating the other ships but still
if I speak princess words to you
you appear solid
as tides move in and out
graced with intention
and I can recall when your body
became a substitute for desire
yoking the past to this moment