the future is nearly invisible
clouded with his eyes and her eyes and yours
with yawns, and holding hands,
and changing your mind--too late
the tickets are tomorrow or
for yesterday

future now is present, clear
of sunbeams and inappropriate black
leather boots, inappropriate
for dinner, where nobody speaks

and future will become clearer,
with raindrops, as time grows less
restrictive and shy strawberries
will eat out of your palm
she has your eyes

while between discrepancy and definitions
and the ulterior motives of mirrors
the future holds us all captive,
tied tangled with the destiny of a
pair of stormy eyes

eyes fade, leaving possibility
offering hand in hand
contentment and accountability, love and
the nasty sharp edges
of unpopular beings

side by side in


our special wishing well