I know you know I’m looking.
You can feel my look, ripping
your top buttons off, my thumb in your mouth;
latitude and languorous plans are not ours,
we live minutes hand to mouth;
no breadth, no depth: no flow,
more a colliding of power –
and it’s just some of you, no time for all, just some,
and that time is rushed and rough;
but you’re enough, occasional lover, enough.