You slip in around the edges of my 'here' and 'now'
wrap your strong hand as firmly around my intestines 
as you do around your chain saw or a hammer, 
or is it as gently as you hold the nail-
ready to let go as fast as air...
should the hammer slip left or right 
and threaten your thumb.

You do not hold on at all, do you;
Evaporating if I turn to lean 
with relish on your ferone scent?
I can be driving... innocently 
down some mossy road 
deep in the forest of, who knows where, 
and your hand comes slipping... like smoke.

I catch a scent of it's musty familiarity 
and foolishly draw in a deep breath 
trying to identify it;
trapped in your spell 
and lost in the fog of memories and realities 
I stumble forward into my today
tricked and cheated and wet with sweat and tears
...no richer, no poorer.

I appear the same- before and after
like a victim explaining that aliens have touched them 
...but left no mark