I see the turn of love. I clock the mechanism.
I have known that bond…the closing of a schism.
I recall my heart racing & wild magnet hips.
The taste of cigarettes & beer on their lips.
It’s almost alien now considering the click.
The complications achieving their tick.
The amorous machinery turning its tumbles.
As a lock’s key lands home-despite all the fumbles.
But keys are lost & gears grind to their halts.
Neither object of Love needs bear all the faults.
No skeleton dances in mismatched lock.
Might as well blame the tick for the tock.
Love marches in Time interfering with hearts.
Everyone subjected to playing their parts.
Some wonder how & some wonder why.
Some wondering “who?”; while Love passes by.
An intricate dance of luck & technique.
Not without misery, darkness & mystique.
I don’t wait for Love or follow in Time’s wake.
I merely study their workings for my sanity’s sake.