That sotto voce whistle through your teeth
insinuates you want me,
so I turn my head a little
to the right.

You then pronounce my sentences like votive
lights. Next thing I hear
is what I think amid homecoming 
to your hideaway.

Feelings shape themselves into 
the shadow bodies that we call our lives.
We find lyrics that instruct us 
how to classify desire

that we infer from
dazzling possibilities 
of things to buy and screens to watch
before the faculty of hearing fails us.


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