Ecce Homo
I.
I remember, I think,
it was at the beginning or the end
of the 5th or 8th of a far moment.
You squeezed my hand in the dark,
a touch that now is a flashlight
in a fading movie theater.
II.
I remember, I think,
her hands around my pelvis.
I and the motorcycle
and a warm ghost behind me.
Two of her fingers laid on my crotch,
urging me to ride faster or slower,
it takes time
to recall the speeds of such blurs.
III.
I remember, I think,
the girl.
Her hands on my shoulders,
both of us standing on discarded clothes.
Her dark eyes entering mine,
opening herself,
but also asking; inquiring.
A lone crow leaving lost town
forever.
IV.
A lifetime twists around minor moments.
The blind pace ahead of themselves
until their hands recall
and learn to see.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
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