I've been thinking a lot about shapes,

more precisely,

the circle.

I've been thinking a lot about colors and faces

and the perfect symmetry of a woman-

eyes, almond shaped, with thick and tall lashes

defined cheeks that sink inward at just the right angle

lips with a full yet unobtrusive pout-

I've been thinking about stars and how they are drawn

so inaccurately, and

the creation of denim and hair dyes.

I've been thinking about you-

but mostly your hands

the blood that runs through those veins,

creating warmth and your smile.

Pump, pumping- I think about bodies a lot.

I think about the bends,

the elbows, or knees.

You're playing soccer, so your cheeks are red and

you're sweating, the sunlight and what that must feel like on your skin

which is different from mine.

Would the burn feel different? That toasting sensation,

like little prickles on my skin, would it feel different on yours-

and how rough is that little piece of skin between your thumb and


some things I'd like to know.

What would it feel like-(I think I am like a body snatcher

inhabiting your skin for those brief and not-so-brief


You sitting on a plane, and what would your posture be like

what would you be doing for those long hours,

how the air pushes out of your nose in long, imagined breaths

with your mouth closed.

I think about details and

the shape of circles.

Along with you, who is-

a body, a skeleton, one brain, one mind,

and my friend.

The last thing I cried about was my lost poetry,

words like children, words like pieces of a soul,


I think about you.

And how you have lost people-that must feel different

in your heart or brain or whatever feels the most-

I've never known that sort of pain. I think about your emotion

and what that must feel like inside your body

as it builds and refuses to spill out.

I wonder what it feels like to be you on a bad day

If you ever feel like crying and don't.

What would those tears taste like and how salty

is your bottom lip after you've just kissed someone.

(The fluxation of your voice playing in the back of my mind

like the exoskeleton of who you are

the happy tones creating your bones and their bends; the

serious, bored, urgent variations creating your skin

and expression.)

I wonder which part of your brain tingles when you meet someone you like

does a small sensation begin in the tips of your fingers

or lower, your toes or belly, or mouth?

What are you like when you are reading-

I could go on forever...

but I won't.

I think a lot about circles

and their neverending half turns, over and around

meeting back in that same place until it all becomes

One. Maybe there had never been two-

I think a lot about circles

and You.


and the shapes we'd create