Apparently, my subconscious has gone and left me
for another poet? Please let it be Mallarmé
so
when the immutable order
returns it to me
it will be as a new lover
a chance meeting on a train trip
washed in twinkly possibilities
his brown eyes so deep they look black
and the curls around his face sharp
against the blurring countryside
his graceful outlines revealing
adventures I long to remember
strange but welcoming
touchingly familiar
with knuckles spelling
L - O - V - E
in blue ink.