What's the immaterial substance
that envelopes two,
that one perceives as hunger
and the other as food.
I wake in tangled covers,
to a sash of snow,
you dream in a cartoon garden,
I could never know.
Innocent imitation,
of how it could be,
if when the music ended,
you did not retreat.
In my imagination,
you are cast in gold,
your image a compensation for me to hold.
Parallel lines move so fast,
toward the same point,
infinity is as near as it is far.