Sunlit dust and shadowed forest streaming
Through the weft of garments and hair
And sunlit dust of pose around the phone
Speaking to distances in person
And, naturally, the distant ones in person
Have to be doing just the same to reconcile us
To the terror of our personal space. Space
Filling with all the dreams we decipher from logic
And late conversation
Recollection of the pose in the booth
Teddy Nadler, Eichmann, lover at the headache plateau
Reflection of the dance in the gloss of the glass
Facing the speaker with angles of traffic
And the breeze blowing through the smashed pane
This space missing the pane we take for granted
Taking this light show of our concern's affection
Granted, it's a moment's escape. A spectacle
Of awe for one's own attachments
Unwilling grace
Stubborn blessings dog the beaten heart
Like obnoxious but useful reporters
Tripping over microphone cords,
Stumbling in Charles Laughton's profound footprints
Retiring into the light
