Vivisect me; we’re all just parts and pieces,

even when we’re connected.  Let’s explore

the openings - but never minds – 

and keep for us those treasures 

that we reap – but not the ideas they inspire. 

Are you not The Physician waiting for patients?

No, you have your tongue in cheek, rubbing 

against decaying teeth, hesitating 

before your masquerade can begin. 

This street surgery cannot last forever, 

But I’m willing to play – pull out the scalpel, 

I’ll show you which roads cross my heart.

There’s a certain kind of dance in your palms, 

they flicker like lamps in snow; guttering,

even as you cut deeper. Your hands have none of

the burlesque in them, they have no mystery. 

As I lay below your tears, they still

and I am - 

cold.