The expiration date belongs
to the carton of questionable cream
or the plastic bag of freezer burnt shrimp
(time can wield a wicked punch in the gut)
When we’re alone together
we lose track of time
sometimes it’s hours of bodies
inside, outside, above, below.
the clock, unwelcome in our bed
(we’re not seeking a third party)
The objective of pinball is to keep
the ball in motion as long as possible,
until intention and reflexes
cease to hold gravity at bay.
Surface to surface,
circumstance to circumstance
How much can it withstand?
can player be playwright be god
of a small, brightly colored universe
that flashes and pings
(a feat of engineering)
I have always been an advocate
for the free-fall,
for the blind-faith, deep-breath
leap, off whatever edge, into whatever depths,
for however long.
Let cream and shrimp remain
the custodians of expiration dates
and let the clock remain a jealous outsider
looking in at our embrace
suspended between surfaces
two bodies, entangled, afloat.