The lovers wait to lose their balance. They would dive
gratefully into the half-dark, picking fingers, thighs, lips
and tumescent parts. But wait, let's stick to beginnings.
Before a rustle in the chest, there were first meetings

in crowds and along unremarkable corridors. A grin, a look
and the memory shrinks to the here and now, re-playable
for future use in the hour before sleep, the hours before
they meet again. Living is an endless piece of rope.


- Accelerando,
Cyril Wong
tilting our plates to catch the light