years and years
before and after
somewhere in between
somewhere else perhaps
perhaps some other theme
with other people and events
and different big weather
no calumny or apophenia
no betrayal or surmise
where there’s only else between
and lots of it for miles and miles
Always to be elsewhere, otherwise
in dream old longings reappear
disguised as prohibitions, strutting
like stagey tyrants, swagging wooden swords.
The in-between is always almost where
our hearts, escaped from others’ minds,
beat out big desires in fits and starts.
Grubby off-camera hands flip months
and days so fast they fly off-screen.
To want to move wants everything.