The past is meaningless
unless
it holds the moment I knew you,
the moment I learned
you.
Time is empty
unless it melts the distance
between our breaths.
For though the universe
is strung with positions of distance,
in truth,
it is only a balloon
we fill with breath,
no texture,
only illusion,
a carousel of candied echoes,
the hum
of honeybees.
