The love interest

We could see it coming from forever,
then it was simply here, parallel
to the day’s walking. By then it was we
who had disappeared, into the tunnel of a book.

Rising late at night, we join the current
of tomorrow’s news. Why not? Unlike
some others, we haven’t anything to ask for
or borrow. We’re just pieces of solid geometry.

cylinders or rhomboids. A certain satisfaction
has been granted us. Sure, we keep coming back
for more—that’s part of the “human” aspect
of the parade. And there are darker regions

penciled in, that we should explore some time.
For now it’s enough that this day is over.
It brought its load of freshness, dropped it off
and left. As for us, we’re still here, aren’t we?

John Asbery