and then we stopped wearing watches

and then we stopped wearing watches

"This will hurt," Dan to Alice Ayers/Jane Rachel Jones in Closer

do people ever really tap dance

spontaneously while walking down the street

taps sparking against the concrete

or break into song

the words echoing off brick walls

and windows taller than people

do they ever really move along in slow motion

meeting eyes as if designed by god

knowing love like a sudden smile—

or do they simply

sit curled in their maroon chairs

or lie fetal in their single beds

alone and all alone

except for pillows sheets and blankets

hoping to find someone

(but not anyone)

whose scent lingers on those sheets

who longs to feel

their bare feet against a familiar leg

and misses that breathlessly when apart. . .

•

a tap dance or song

can never cover deception

the smudge of soot that is deception

self-serving remnants of the smoldering fire

sparked by selfishness rubbing against narcissism

flames fanned by words shouted in anger

words like shattered panes of glass

no one can walk across bloodlessly

and no one can wipe away

no one

no one can wipe away

those dark tears dried on the cheek you turned to face it all

in time. . .