looking through glass
daniel crocker
On a rose patal bench
the world is frosty
and stale. Wind
numbing diamonds on
my cheeks. Webs of
smoke neon tornado spirals
coil around my face.
Catch a glimpse here and there,
snatching bits of it
into my mouth and out again
into the air.
You warm inside
and smiling
with dandelion friends.
Lips moving
soundlessly with conversation.
Mahogany hair descending
faithfully in locks
around your flushed cheeks,
reminding me of where I sit.
For one bare unending moment
I see
superimposed
my face on yours
transparent through glass.
