Fermata

You are a sustained landscape one that changes only when you smile or frown, a fermata, an endless note something akin to love strung-out, pulled thin until it vibrates at the same tone as does love, but not deep, just the tension of a chord made to sing as a vibration upon an unvarying reiterative. The landscape is in you, the one holds the other in place. it forms your stance and mien. From a distance of years I see you smile or frown, wave or turn your back from my outreaching arms. The sounding wire is continuous, only those minor wincing fractals upon lips, the corners of your eyes, the bandwidth of a memory never changing. The landscape does not build a thing, not a brick or a leaf just this constriction in my throat while I echo the atonality of a mood, and given the small modulations, your perpetual disengagement, and my need for this vision to change even so, am I kept listening to this ever e x t e n d i n g minimalistic curtain-call, a thralldom to a reenactment that draws near to love while rebounding away.