Parallel Lines

What's the immaterial substance
that envelopes two,
that one perceives as hunger
and the other as food.

I wake in tangled covers,
to a sash of snow,
you dream in a cartoon garden,
I could never know.

Innocent imitation,
of how it could be,
if when the music ended,
you did not retreat.

In my imagination,
you are cast in gold,
your image a compensation for me to hold.

Parallel lines, move so fast,
toward the same point,
infinity is as near as it is far.

Parallel lines, move so fast,
toward the same point,
infinity is as near as it is far.