///Back or forth// The dew drops// Linger// A cusp of tea// Giving ground wait// And bend// The pipe// Around the corner// Like a master fitter// Grinding an edge// Just an 8th inch// But sparks fly// When wheel// Hits wall// And// Crisp// Like morning// Autumn air// Punching your nose// With a cool breeze// That makes you sniffle// Molten mucus// The gasping// Self to self// Echo// Of muted voice// As you stare// Into your own face// As you turn// Your hips away// The doorways// To yourself// Emerge in lines// Toe to toe// Our wax// Drips into// The same// Candle pan//