Joynt Adventure

She may have missed the first exchange, yet reads
the burly beard--the one he only half hopes masks
the precarious visage exposed beneath: vague
words testing deafening waters--covering
his heavily woven sighs that still intimately dance
dressed in Ian’s lingering conversation.

He aptly addresses, however, this verse--
with neither preface nor prologue:
a poetic exhibition of dangerous tension
in which he wholly revels.

She cannot process the abundance of music:
circuitry through neuron, over muscle and back:
pure voracity on her part. She cannot name it,
utter it or drink it down before it first consumes her
and finds her in a somewhat compromising position,
“You two make a cute couple.”

I still cannot conjure the response
suspended over the crowded room,
yet I have memorized the feeling
across her face and the smile of her toes.