What follows below is a daydream, a rendering of 'the loose gazing of our eyes which is endless' from Apollinaire' The Mirabeau Bridge.
this is all a dream, we never met really, it is a fable, our touches had the fate of distance destined from the beginning, we lingered in the arc of our shadows, our shadows stretched from one to the other, under the shadow of the world, beneath the shadow of ourselves, under the hesitant union of our shadows we lingered a while didn't we, we sat together often, under the shade of crimson autumn leaves, looking often at the lines of our hands, looking for some meaning in the shadows that shaded us, shadows that stretched from me to you, and from you to me. we gazed loosely at each other, often lingering in the shadow of those gazes, we thought that this time would outlast the bitterness of lonely hours, hours that crept so often between us, hours of solitude and meeting, at the edge of those gazes, within the arc of those hours, at the periphery of your scent.
your scent your smell, the iris of your eyes, lie I would if I didn't think that I saw in them my destiny, in the discreet shadow of your arms the destiny of my mouth, in the shadow of your arms the meaning of my shadow, between those gazes the unruffled warnings of my desire, the stirrings of my touch, the unsaid ruffling of your lips, the movement of your lips, the smell of your lips, the scent of your days, the meaning of your nights, my eyes never met your eyes I admit, your eyes never sought my eyes in open unrestraint, yet didn't our gazes linger endlessly on those moments between us that were shadowless, didn't I seek the water of your mouth didn't I seek the heaviness of my touch on you though I didn't tell you so?
my eyes will forever seek the fresh iris of your eyes, after you open your blinking eyes, after you have swept away with your wet fingers the loose strands of your hair that keep getting in the way of our gaze, after you open your eyes unhesitantly to my fresh questions to my fresh eyes, I will not let the old images that fall on your eyes come in the way of the new gaze, come near sit near me, it is autumn again, the streets of my memory are littered with your memory, come unhesitant come again come and seek in my eyes the loose gazing of our eyes which is endless even if it is only a dream.