when I want the words
to shift out of my mouth
like a natural slip
and practised movement of tongue and lip,
enunciating the thought
the way it should be,
how I want it to work-

a thousand things cause me to pause
not one of them worthy
and laugh softly instead
or utter incomplete commonalities
as though I'd said what I meant to say

what I wanted to say
that I miss you
like the ocean misses the shore
like the moon calls to the tide
unfading and irrepressible,
a lull in the veins
just like breathing-
such a secondary nature,
rising consummation and joy,
like a riot of rain in dry summer...

and when I want the words
they're so hard to find,
in sufficient measure, adequate conveyance,
to tell you how I really feel,
when your eyes, your hands,
your mouth and your heart
are so close to mine
that it takes all of my concentration
just to take it all in
just to breathe.