Louie Crew

We Who Nudge Close

The moon you see, like mine,
is liquid, and we two are
pouring where we will.
How nice that it, the moon,
does not discriminate
whom it with silver will dilate,
nor worry what newness
it will be. So might we.

Rub the tip of your tongue
across your gums,
squeeze the jeans of boys,
run orange sun
into a small attic corner,
say where you are,
screw a star.

Still all others run away
no more nor less than they do
from flowers.
Freedom's only ours
when we have it,
not something they or it can give:
ours to live through funnels
of liquid moss at Balloon Place.

Watch your face
dry shiny sweat into slick leather smiles.

Why? Who cares?

We who nudge close always care,
and why should each waste time
to begrudge the other a term?
It is nothing to The Worm.

Louie Crew, 70, is the author of 1,770+ published poems and essays. He and his husband of 33 years, Ernest Clay, live in East Orange, NJ. Over 1,000 visit his website every day See especially his resources for poems at http://www.andromeda.rutgers.edu/~lcrew/poetry.html.

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