Life on Mars
Sometimes we sit and talk for hours,two chairs facing each other
discussing things like
is there life on Mars
and if it rained for
a thousand days,
how many gallons is that?
I watch his face
become animated, laughing
because when I'm engrossed
in what we say
my hands wave circles
in the air.
When I make spaghetti
we leave trails
of conversation.
desperately following threads
but we only have
eyes for each other.
We sit opposite,
occasionally touch as we eat.
I don't think I care
about life on Mars,
what I care about
is him.
Poetry by Elle
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Editors' choice
Written on 2013-06-18 at 19:35
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