He and She are two lines, converging
to a point like sharks in steady motion:
always moving forward, never going back,
and never standing still until its end.
He and She are straight lines with nothing
but a steamy ninety-eight-point-six degrees
between them, keeping them apart,
separated by an ark until they reach the Point.
She is a solid line, at least 5B lead,
running parallel along the grid
without wavering, without a bend,
and inked to give her shadows,
character, emphasis and depth, while
the other lines perpendicule around her.
He is a dotted line, bisectual,
cutting squares in half, pointing straight
a-head like an arrow, dangerous and
pea-cocked by its fletchings.
A compound beau with pulleys
and gears that often miss the mark.
He and She are headed for a Vanishing Point,
To a collision, or towards a horizon line
where every building skews in a new direction
down slanted streets, slouching towards,
To end, or to continue on and on, anon.
He and She are headed towards a head,
forged by perspective. A trick of the eyes
and the I’s and lines, the lives and the lies,
manipulating space- and wasting -time
creating new dimensions to live in-
side by side, not content with length-by-height.
He and She are two lines, converging to a Point:
An ending, a forever, or flip-sides of a coin?