Twenty Questions Kissed Apart

The flotsam of detail new and old-fashioned
passes on the bridge over the river of passion.

I feel huge and none
of the bodies in the neighborhood
hurtling silently in this belt
can change my course.

The mean and median
of all your directions
take hold and drive me
north of north.

I played and lost games of twenty questions
they cost the customer but not the ringmaster.

I am kissed apart
by heart-felt deviations
feet wander star to star
love is distance.

Nineteen times I ask
about your destiny
the twentieth enquiry
loosens your mouth.

Dreams like grasses reproduce in themes
fecund as when you swim my upstream.

The flotsam of detail new and old-fashioned
passes on the bridge over the river of passion.

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
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