passing through

My fingers are like alleyways,
my palm's a square. You cross it, then
you stop. My arm is like a curving road,

my shoulder is a river bed and then
the neck's a bridge. Then you can choose
to go this way, or that. To wait. To wait.

In a dream in a cloud in passion
and wonder. Just listen to the thunder.

--Amos Oz

kinks in my back one, two, three
when will you be with me?
oh, can't you see?
you are what gives my heart its beat.