Why?
Why do the conventional lines of plaid
and the stagnant flow of flowers
disturb me so?
Why can't I adhere to the lines
and remain Manet's Olympia
next to you?
why do I allow the lapsing sand
to plunge through the narrow pipe
underneath...
where I crave to be?
Why do I stare at you so fervently,
or why do I muse that you gaze
on me likewise?
Why can't I discover the truth
or even where to ascertain
a grain of it?
Why did our eyes collide on such a
parallel plane sans wings
to soar?
Why does my cerebrum quiver like
"the moon"
as I collapse into your star speckled
quartz-blue eyes?
Why do I see you as you do not see me?
