subtext

You tell me who I should be for you;

and for you, I become what you desire.

But I am only me here eating yogurt

with granola looking through the glass

at a cat dreaming on the mottled grass.

I am just as much a construct here,

in this poem, as in your lovely eyes.

While outside, cicadas hum and drum

a tune to the rhythms of the pulsating day

which neither you nor I can sing alone.

Who I am to you, and who you are to me,

are neither as near nor far to either

the dreamer or the dream as any word

which falls from your lips onto mine.