In that roundabout way
that people go from day to day
I followed you.
Your music, your books, your voice
I was swept up in your jetstream
waiting around for a knock on my door
and your postponed affection
waiting
Until the day I recognized the look in my mirror
as desperation
not delight
That night I blew out the candle
and went happily to sleep, alone
for oenone, by request. | 
