Untitled Bob Marcacci * cruise fog for lost woman    on the sad bus with sad people        lost myself without her hopefully                  a temporary thing    this bus jerks to another stop        still light in the early evening          people shuffle past nowhere to go on the sad bus    with their bags and groceries        look for her in strange faces * thirst for a sense               a sixth                            resonance    search for this feel which returns              to feed in darkness                              my lover's cold arm                bending closer                                          still morning charms          dawn's blood touch warms me    move away from the circle                  move as dark light in the faint opening                brings another day with its hunger                                                      collapse                                into shadows                    an eyelid pierces                a glimpse of movement