the living room is a wreck   the walls and

ceiling seem to

reverberate   echoes of revelry   the

party is over   everyone has gone

home   but

jane and i   amid

the detritus   sit across the room from

one another   talking   by

morning we

are in love   of course we are in

love   neither

wanting to move   to

change the mood   lose the  moment   even

in the least   

~

moments

pass   

the moment does       

pass

~

what is the truth   where is the truth in

this   who are these people   where are they   

is this real or imaginary   and what is this 

thing that passes   this moment   this

representation of time   and what was it

that held their attention for so long that they

could talk their way through the night   

and come to dawn in love   seriously in love   

passionately   life-alteringly   in love   and what

were the colors of their eyes   and what sounds

were they hearing   and after their long sit     

did they come together   touch   kiss   meld   

evaporate   and why did the moment pass

what did it feel like to be them  before and after

~    

they did come together   with

passion

and talked of forever

they lived a thousand miles apart

they tried   the 

distance was too great   their

immediate needs too urgent   it was a

lesson

passion alone is not enough   the details   jane's

eyes were hazel   her hair   on the chestnut side of

brown   the sounds

they heard were of the street   see   

how it does not matter   details themselves

are irrelevant

~

there is a moment   when the house

lights come up

the movie-goers leave   all

but a few who stay to watch the credits   or

to retain the mood   in 

those moments   of emptiness   and

or  of completion   something unknowable

may be revealed   a

connection   perhaps   a memory

jog   an a ha moment   something those who

leave early will not

experience   so it is with the 

two of them   they left too early   they

will never know

~

this begs the question   all the while knowing

there is no anwer   what

is love   la ti da   some fall in love

with language   some with their 

own bodies

some with this and that   no one thing   jane

and i fell in love with an idea   i

suppose   

of what our lives might be like if

we had each other to talk to and sleep 

with   and be 

secure in that knowledge   that it didn't last is a

false notion   the love

still exists   the relationship failed

~