The future is a projected cone of light
We hurtle toward but never overtake,
Demarcated by rhythmic slashes
Thin and white, evenly spaced
Like so many routinary, endless days.
I focus on light and night, known and unknown,
On trajectory and stopping distance,
Until the startling flash of your green eyes
Grabs my attention for a treacherous instant
And registers on the insidious device
That tracks the pulse of my heart’s desire.