in twos, hoping to hit upon something
that divides me up between you with no
bias,
and yet what remains is my hands,
containing what I have and what I do not;
two fingers living somewhere they should not,
and two eyes looking at something they should not.
you see, it is all very well in principle-
your friends are your friends are your friends
are your friends
are not your lovers. Will not hold your hands
when they are empty
Will not close their eyes or say 'yes'.
Will not breathe quieter than this.
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