Nearly Neruda

We pass the magazine section
over-whisk the egg whites
as if we know that on the other side
of this ordinary morning
is wine and deepening
but for now is enough the warmth and covering
and elemental things like kiss on your mouth
and cheek on my breast.

We circle like two paper boats
in an enclosed sea,
until we will once again reach beyond
sink into the endless well
float past the velvet wall.