AND THE CROWD STILL SPINS

But all I wished for was to take her hand, fold fingers together, lead her into the festival night, the distant lights smoke signals to our souls, linger together against wall lit square by electric angles, tread through furrowed paths over litter and under arch, watch her smile at passers-by and smile at them too, avert gaze from the uneasy, share water from crude tap

– fresh/icy –

let the music push us into the dark, sigh at difficult steps, watch strands of wiry hair struggle in a low breeze, whisper when quiet, shout when loud - smell food but not taste it, taste only each other amongst a swelling crowd –

accidentally graze arm, say nothing of it, remark on the joyful despair around us, murmur the same feelings in ourselves –

huddle from the cold, open to warmth, speak of life (death), never say love for mood is enough -

want nothing, need only each other, for only an hour or two, one minute or ten, just a few seconds and a few more, even a moment, just one slight in space, a single thread, to see her face looking shy into mine, lips pursed with intent, cheeks freckled by time, ears open to my own –

how perfect, now true, the beginning of our end.

And the crowd still spins.

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Image created from 35mm soaked in blended seaweed.