Coins

The hand and pen
together to death
shall they never part

But you paused them

We are two coins swirling
round
the yellow plastic
basins
at Walmart

Charity without
thinking of it

A small thrill
for alms

I will write again some day
soon
I can feel it
pushing against the cages of my
consciousness

Until then
All the beautiful things
I can say
are yours
are spoken and not written
are free versed

I will return to metaphorical
pen and page
But not yet
not
yet

Like clarity

I'm looking at you
In the drivers seat
In blue
In contentment

Your smile widens
I don't believe we are here
You say something to me
And I mentally pinch myself

We embrace
Passionately
Like folds in a blanket
Soft, random
Warm

I am not here
I cannot come to acceptance
This is it
I am a fool sometimes

I want many things
But I never want to be
An intellectual
Or an artist
For neither

Will capture the beauty of this moment
With anything
Like clarity