old love leans this way
over a table
toward its mirror image and sinks comfortably into a familiarly indented nest...
if you have been lucky and found one to last and last
and last
new love bends inward hugging the wildness of its own galloping runaway mount.
bends forward
chasing old love
but cannot see it through the ether of time
strewn with the detritus of unbidden memories
cannot see past its own reflection.
cannot hear beyond the strains of its own riotous joyful cacophonous noise