bedouin dress
Borrow, borrow, borrow - in the lonesome night’s light I recall how I have borrowed many things: the affection of lovers, the words that drip from their open mouths, the deepest and warmest sanctums they have.
Indeed I have borrowed many things and with them borrowed regret. I have been a Ulysses tied to the mast; I have thrashed against the cords that bound me thinking only of the stark and eager siren. I have been too young to know that the words I said back in those times of softness would weave themselves deep into the fibers of their heart muscles.
And one day I saw you walking in the plaza, maybe it was an ancient city, in your sweetly patterned dress in the crowd more alluring with every step the bright light of remorse blinding me. I remembered how we experienced each other’s bodies but perhaps we never experienced each other at all.
