Their hands touched
a million neurons stumbled over each other
as they rushed to interact,
she looked at him,
lips fixed,
he grasped her hand,
to stop falling deeper into the spiral.
Her eyes had him mesmerised,
he looked away, as if to relieve the flow
past-present-future fell into one,
nothing he said made any sense,
there is more meaning in silences than in words.
He looked at her eyes again
and realised it was all too late,
he mumbled something, front-to-back,
nothing said made any sense
as the neurons were cascading into each other
in a mutual hazardous mix.
There was no going back, or forwards, or sideways,
a flow such as this transfixes everything into that moment.
She smiled, noticing his discomfort,
‘Do you…’ that was as much as he could say,
‘Would you…’ that went no further;
her whole face was now alight
as he looked down to the tablecloth,
now wet as he melted into the moment,
they withdrew into the night – on their separate ways . . .
Geoff Holloway (2 May 2022) with thanks to Dora de Deus for the inspiration.
