Hand in hand, to walk on sand, through water, in the rain,
sharing, in companionship, the pleasure and the strain:
each secret lure – each intricately idiosyncratic bent
to which you’ve ever lent
your wishes and your life:
the strange deliciousness of strife –
the predilections you exhale: a breathy cough
proceeding from what you had thought you wanted, flying off:
to stride along the stormy beach, its roiling foam of sea,
exchanging fizzling bits of you and drizzling bits of me:
investigating privacies of every stripe,
the whispered wet and ripe
experience of being here:
that, my dear, is our frontier.
.
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