Everyone you meet, they all seem repeats, so I address you in language different, alternate of alternating sense and tense and reference, of surface-teasing depths and depth-hinting surfaces, hoping we’ll stave off the inevitable and only ever talk about anything but nothing, teasing and hinting something or other, something other in and out of both, one another,

being, and being more than unthinking talk can hold.

How I love the looks we get apart and will, would together.