The Imprint of Us

There’s something of mine in you,

so carelessly imprinted:

in passing, out of breath,

in the crease of a confused look,

in the blur of feelings’ outlines.

There’s something about you, the way

you carry my trail,

easily, a little feverish,

somewhat cloudy, unclear,

somewhat calm, dignified.

There’s something in that haze

of our air, something crunchy,

a kind of rhythmic dream. Undelivered,

before and before and for us,

like that, carelessly stamped.