Return to Archive Wilden Street Driving away from a love that’s not lost, but sold. Stolen for the price of a dinner. A Carnation. Good conversation. Rear vision mirror showing a street I ignore when driving into arms providing protection from Wolves With carnations. My head is infatuated. Infected with words. Material touch provides an infusion of minds But no guarantees. Driving on to a love that’s not verbal. Nor floral. No formal communication swamping my senses. Just accepting. (c) Leah Aplin