what are moments
if they’re not hinted
with your scent? or
visions colored the same
as your hands over my
eyes? reached out and
grabbed the wrong pair
of glasses, saw the world
as you did. your fidgeting
hands turn screws that
drop ribs, refer to these
blueprints for further
instruction.
my daily tribute
to this thing
i can’t name
what is time
but opportunity