Chutes and Luges

Muted, oddly, and cultured,
brought in and together
with glancing perceptions,
distant and parallel, crowded
and in want of breath:

thinking good thoughts, quiet,
and hands and a skip
away through snow, curved
so we slip away, arms
thoughts and all.

And you stop speaking,
writing books and hearing me,
though I am silent, removed
as can be the eye, as it is forgotten
as quickly as it was dreamed.