You have exactly as much as I need.
As we caress the bottom
of what we know in fumbling sobriety.
And who we might have been
wells up and evaporates as the sweat
dries on your forehead and mine.
I notice perfection glowing in and
out of focus.
When our core temperature
returns to friendly, I can see
clearly again.
Just a man and woman,
not gods or even disciples.
The Iliad never mentioned us,
the Bible forgot our names.
The cities that remain unconquered
by us stand defiant.
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