Apparently my subconscious has gone and left me

for another poet? Please let it be Mallarme

so

when the immutable order

returns it to me

it will be as a new lover

as a chance meeting on a train trip

washed in twinkly possibilities

his brown eyes so deep they look black

and the curls around his face sharp

against the blurring countryside

his graceful outlines revealing

adventures I long to remember

strange but welcoming

touchingly familiar

with knuckles soaked

in blue ink

L O V E.