my move or yours?

[Doreen Peri]

you have more letters and overtones than any key ever offered, groans and would be showns, rapid jazz cached games, up and down perfect scents, cents spent on genius commas, toppled board bored cross referenced traumas and scored pieces in diagonal matter than i would have a chance to challenge, the slip of philosophic hobby something like sitting in a lobby waiting for a game

i may be tame but i would bet that my alphabet has twenty six letters, not twelve

unless we count the ones you sent me from hell when your life was a shambles and damned if i didn't receive them when mine was askew, true, on the dying edge of whatever i ever knew, trying to see through my own veil, life, the rock, shale layered with scoff and indignity, love letters scented received, woven like weaves of thought collected to be printed out, nothing protected but the rare beat of a heart start on a game of let's begin again and our harmony is so recorded, i have afforded every iota of every minute minute of time to offer rhyme and reason, the treason of abject random clips or melody and triple word bets suspended upon the animation of forever and a day

would it be OK for me to say right now that i adore you more than whatever score you persist in pursuing and i rue the awakening of the morning when the sun peaks its soul into sky shine and we share some soft white cream with the whine of another dawn taunt

Lay out your tiles and don't let me see them
put them on a rack and I will track my own spellings
down to the blank spaces left, especially the ones without points
which could be anything you want to perceive them to be,
filling in the annoy me inattention with the music of redemptive
glee.

When I meet you in person
I know you will see me.

Is it my move?
Or yours?