at what pained moment did it happen?
that reversal of polarity?
where magnetic hands, once hanging,
clinging,
every unseen moment they had together
instead found force in resistance
and now private moments
are fueled by repulsion.

i miss the attraction,
but i guess there's no backward action,
and in the infinite universal spiderweb
you are a speck
and i am the flea.
you are a speck
on the back of a flea.

when did the wind change direction?
that billowing sail go limp?
where cross breezes, once upflowed to tornadoes,
whirling,
every grey afternoon yellowed with day dreams
instead lay empty-brained
and now the tempest brews
only in my teapot.

i miss the attraction,
but i guess there's no backward action,
and in the infinite universal spiderweb
you are a speck
and i am the flea.
you are a speck
on the back of a flea.