Elegy

We are falling out of a marble staircase. Out, and into a marble hall where a bright light consumes and starts its way up the immaculate walls. We are racing the deluge of the culture intoxicated lot, all quivering, formless and indistinct in its oscillations. You take its course and move towards a wall of black autumn chill, your straight back arching as each step is lain. Your perplexing shape dances like a cat in the tune of some violin. As a pause is made, your frame is jolted by contradicting thoughts and you turn round. The black varnished piano makes himself a companion to myself and my bashful conversation. You turn round exposing the fine skin of some distant spice. I take up a black curtain and you slide both hands in its grasp, your delicate fingers streaming the fabric of hard texture. My breath is kept and a wave rises as it dusks your ebony tress. A slow sound of naked air rushes out into the square. The delicate aroma of your breath. We keep ourselves alive by walking, making patterns of dissolute roundabouts. Idle flashes of your smile take hold and fears sets in and bolts up into my legs. Your face is a virgin landscape carved out from within by motions set into perennial motion. The cold slides on to the waxed cobbles and rubs the orange lamplight onto your shiny shoes. The tick and tack of your feet remind me of such things as belonging and morning. My hands take shelter and my hair stands on end. We stand, moments from each other, and I hesitate. We could have danced but I found myself gazing at the ever widening rupture. You ring round a car and slip out of sight. I depart, as an abrupt sound of tire on asphalt takes note of your departure. And as you raced through winding streets I kept my eyes on you.