“I have a new shirt,” said the gypsy.
She drew me closer, within reach
of her pair of sure hands
“White with Green accents in the collar and cuffs,” she smiled.
I saw only her neck, her ear and her nose
Her eyes and her cheeks
Then she said something gypsy people say
My heart became heavy
And soft at her sight
In this state of awakening
A manner of love came over me
I took her to an in-between place
Where we exchanged our bodies
On sheets of macrolove
Her heart beating faster
Now she is a gypsy with two memories
One filled with longing, kept looking back
The other filled with life, kept soaring high
And then I remembered
That I saw her once before
At this conference of hearts
