I’m ageing inwards
between hairline
nose pores
& the window
there is no refresher
in how to survive
your fog outline
vibrates my gaze
shaped always the same each—
but I might lose you or enter
the wrong password three times
for flushed cheeks
a loudspeaker might say
‘hold an ice cube to your wrist’
or ‘sit on a plush armchair
indefinitely’
both produce puddles
neither propels me forward