while they are in the streets you and I contemplate time.
not in any grand way.
let’s say, for instance, the idea of a while.
while you are on Mama Ngina i’m at home doing my best to sober up.
while you watch me sleep I deam of you.
while you are being the great lover of birds I am in your room trying to arrange things.
and that’s it. you never watch me sleep,
while order remains a curious concept to me,
i’d rather exist in your not knowing anything.
there is so much distance in a while.
not to mean we have never been considering departure.
while the bus waits.
while the car starts.
while you put on the brown lipstick.
while you consider genes.
while wild friends are out there starting revolutions,
making installations, reading Camus, the homemade equations of art.
my great task of the day is your morning tea,
or a simple kiss on the cheek, or the simple act
of seeing you, considering you, while you exist.
you’ll never be my muse,
but there is a while, and you exist.