back scratching
evening
this is the story i
am telling minute by
minute
constructing you from
the pile of bedsheets
with hair
and eyes
i sometimes wonder what its
like for you when you
lean toward me to
press your face into
this one
what do you see
a small storm of jaunty
lines light hair expressions
i am
a puppeteer
peering from behind the screen
imagining the show he performs
but will never see
it is harder than we realize
to know oneself from
backstage
then i look up at you for
a moment
the breath of you experiencing
this show of me and
i come suddenly and briefly
to the touchstone of
myself
from there i can measure
all the rest
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