book.

the ocean creased between your brows,
you looked through me to the window pane. drops,
of the selfishness we embody
rise and fall in your chest.
and i see how you are like me.

borrowing from me my lifts, my gentle daily riffs,
you made me travel to retrieve my book.
having read it with your preconceived hate,
your hair danced while your head shook.
and i felt the wind we ate.