I love you
only because angels have wings
and death is too heavy to carry
the remembering,

we fly
you and I,
old soldiers clashing now and then
on the battlefield of perception,
fucking age from our bodies,
wild with monsoons, cherry blossoms
and the savage moon

you raptured in seas of luminescent blue-green light,
we fell on anthills
wheat fields grew into dreams
and shadows of dreams
days of sun faded into blue jeans,
the nights we lay on damp sheets
mottled with white feathers and cold moonlight

on Tuesday we became poets and wrote poetry.