At what tiny moment does that first whiff of chemistry release itself between lovers? From where, from what wind, what breeze, what tiny lifting of air? When does that particle first begin its magnetic trajectory? Can lovers pull and be pulled — off the edge into something unknown — without stumbling? Without being lost? Why do I feel suddenly weightless? If I close my eyes and let myself step out, will I trust myself? Will I keep my balance? Standing only on the letters of my name? Will my name, I, me, this figure, this cloud, stay in focus against this other cloud? This airy cloud of swarming feelings? What is this moment? Is it mine?
Name & Number
From the buttoned-down part of town that she grew up in
She comes walking like a vision, soft and grey
Almost 31 — she has a son — she wants a lover
She writes her name and her number on a card
And I am 32 – I’ve had friends and I’ve had lovers
I’ve made mistakes, yeah, but I’ve made them in my own name
How long will it take for the best in us to surface?
For the things we already know by heart?
In our hands the balance hangs
We can close our eyes and let it sway, still balancing
Out over the edge and back again, still balancing
We can close our eyes and feel it sway
What else could I say to make this my moment
Other than my own, my own name?