The wine-glistened lips meet in our kiss.
I run my tongue along the glass
Pursuing each drop, each phoneme
For another shade of meaning
To unfold in this taste I desire.

A fine distillation: each nuance,
Each gesture, each half-smile
Condensed to feed my addiction;
Words mean only what we bring.
Do we share the same dreams?

I drink her words in, savor the sounds
Roll them around, feel their fit,
And wonder how much more can there be?
What exactly was it she said to me?

(November 2010)