if i were to admit
you had gotten under my skin
that would be as much as to write
"that skin were real"

which is more, much too more
than the total possibility of me
and yet
you have been thereabouts
for some time now
a presence without sense
a motive without goal
a sin without its sinner
and a love without its soul

such poetry
you draw off me like i never had
never could have had
just some few hapless tappings at the keys
like there was particular you
just a spellcheck away from perfection

i was enjoying the ride
or was it the fall
if i ever had a mind
or something worth standing for
(or was it just standing in for?)

for what it could have been we thought we felt
forothers toomight have felt something like

at some other time and place
between some other times and places

(words to that effect)

for sure we are not alone
they are gathered hereabouts
in the darknesses
in the hush

countless others maybe
for whom a not too dissimilar issue has come to mind

(words by simon jones)