i want to hold hands 
to completion. where "to become"
means to envelop. our sea shell skin
holding the muscle of our desires.
where is your longing located?
is there a key in your drawer
salvaged from a pile of foot steps.
i used to collect rain 
in mason jars in case the sky
turned into my fingers & forgot 
how to let go. steam from a cup of tea
nests with cirrus wings inside 
the sock drawer. do we all handshake
with ourselves? do we all 
encounter moments of sameness.
a need to tie the hot air balloon
to the front porch & say, 
"that too is mine." taking my day off
one sock at a time. remembering
my barefoot years where no matter what
no one could coax me into socks.
was i against pairs? i believe 
i still am. i prefer odd numbers.
a third earring to hang from 
the ceiling before exiting a scene.
a third sock, unknotted & asking
to be filled with pennies. 
i say, "quarters" & let the states
be swallowed one by one. 
where do you put your toes
in the dark? i curl mine.
tiny fish hooks or tulip buds.
waiting for the company. mostly,
i want to discover the alone i had
last year standing at my dresser
pressing one sock into 
the chest of another & thinking
"i want to be this fabric,
i want to be kissed through
a fabric mirror." 

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