Cut the road so it narrows can
fit to one side a car and the other
its mirror, toward the opposite 

Direction, is plausible enough in itself.
Beauty–turn to it.  You taught me,
blithe and modelesque in your skin,
to move like a wind caught howled in the trees.

Did you know, your skin moves me
–too tight to be envy and, keep there,
love enough not to pity how gorgeous

I find you–the way you give
yourself up to the laptop camera.

Tonight, I’ve made you my urgency.
It is snowing and snowing
and snowing–can you tell?