Marcel Proust knew it along:
We desire a being that shoots
like a star across the universe,
& we only hold it fleetingly
in our hands.
The body enclosing it
somnabules to another side of space
to embrace another.
We are always on the brink of falling,
here at the edge of the abyss
& you, pretty woman across the table
delicately biting into a slice of cheescake,
will be forever a mirage
even if you were mine.

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