Beach Party

for Mare

Pleasures give the gift of dopamine.
Pains exchange something she has no name for.


A step in sand away from the fire.
Then, another. The path
appears in my effort towards nowhere.
To follow me you must connect
the dents in the earth
before the wind returns everything
to its nothing. To find you
in this dark, I look into your shining eyes
and follow the shapes your lips behave
as you explain how the brain knows
what it isn't.

A touch reaches
beyond the immediate.

Who are you becoming before I know you?
Your smile's echo; the speed of this light
enters my eyes from the fire
and on it rides these arriving angles
of your mouth and brow.

You touch my hand to demonstrate neurology
and more information runs the pathways of my mind
than an object's awareness of an object.

Memory remains and pours the senses.
Your index finger at the skin
beside my knuckle.



by jerry gordon
3.1.08