crossings

i meet you
in awkward phrases
from days of love
long past.

the silence
we had negotiated
on those last few nights
over alarmingly easy sessions
of looking away
finds its way
to old conversations
every evening
(or alternate perhaps)
and cuts them up
into bits of incoherence,
lives out its contract.

at dusk sometimes
i still meet you
in awkward phrases
but i am not sure
what they mean
anymore.