When we were not much younger,
we'd lay on our backs in the grass
and look up to the sky, you and I making
shapes in the clouds and seeing how
elephants became rabbits as easily
as actions become habits.
You were new, corduroy pressed against
spaces not meant for us, not dressed in innocence
and common sense was far away from us then.
I looked at you like a thing without a place,
or a feeling that didn't quite fit.
For every moment of passion there is
a passive understanding amidst the insidious
sense of urgency that comes when you
realize you're in places you're not supposed
to be and you are bound to be discovered.