Orion's Belt

Can you help me count the strokes,
The tick-tock of the clock, the
Exquisite delay. Inside alone,
Together, heart rule-sticks apart,
Mixed-up, but with everything I might
Want to afflict myself with.

Since the first three-sixty around
The town, hands pressed against the glass
Lips and eyes wide: the New Orleans lights
Lost and pale under your gloss—
Didn’t it seem instant?

Orion’s Belt smiling on our cascading hair,
Nighttime heat, autumn meetings so chance
Maybe it was more than just the last dance
Or the first smile.

Elegant truths, cloaked underneath umbral and
Humble beginnings, belying obscure whys, as
Mere syllables fail to find a respite for
The turbulence.

Meanwhile, gratification turns on scant memories
As all that can be availed: allowed to feel
No more than stark patience.
With You.