Am I Lost in Your Eyes?

lostFaded red spray paint
on the railing of the small bridge
over Mill River where I’m walking
in circles during minors practice.
I read it first as love: I’m lost
in your eyes, lost as in found,
lost like everything else falls away,
and perspective is this word
I don’t, can’t, might never
understand or even begin grasping
except at times like this
when, lost in your eyes, in the love
there, I stop grasping and fall
willingly away from meaning.
But then I realized, it could be
that in your eyes, I’m lost. Lost
like she lost her 14th tooth, tossed
like yesterday’s leftovers, lost
as in cause, as in cause and effect
and untethered and I told you
I needed a heavier anchor
than a prayer or a whisper.
I needed a scream, to find
some ground where it’d be possible
to be angry at the very same god
I thank for your eyes, your steady
hands, your heart unflappable
for long enough periods of time
that you could play a CSI detective
on TV.  But I do see the flaps
and the airways and the openings
where tears get out and light gets in
and we can’t, don’t, won’t ever
escape each other because
this much is a choice. I’m not lost
at all, babe. I’m right here, in your eyes
somehow purer than I’ll ever know.

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