mouth-shutting lips.
so is this voice-over, tiding my mindbraries over
the fiction in the space between us.
short of breath glitterrains spray their jet
to fill in the gaps of a scary colander.
this is our last moment together
the next thing to dead-or-alive, an amanuensis of it all
as what goes up must come down.
up-tempo bodies. nothing will be bared to life's surround sound,
nothing to its silent, tardy lip-reading.