Discrete

With silver slippers
On hands and feet
crawl the path of the moon on the water
white jasmine buds in your pockets
and loneliness tucked behind your ear


No primary colors here
all silvers and purples
greys
charcoals
discrete


No need to keep reminding me of who we are
no need for your history lessons
and political treatises
its only you and me
in black and white
crawling the path of the moon on water


Do you hear the water under the glass?

In a few hours it will be daylight
And blues and greens
reds and aquas
Will assault us

In the onslaught of daylight
We will stand
And
Sink