sleepwalking

but what of the warm rain-
and the way of ferris wheels?

remember the apple’s
caramel streaked across your cheek?

how we smiled and laughed that night,
our hands touching more often than
friends might touch, less often
than lovers might.

i have searched for such a poem ever
since that would capture that moment and
free me from the bondage of
poetry.

i have found something, too,
inside each of thirty-one pebbles found
in thirty-two places.

unrecognizing the wind,
tasting caramel on your lips,
we go around.