opening a bottle today

in a moment
slow to the point
where you could barely call it a moving picture
playing on an old projector, black and white film
of us, yet to be colored in by the passage of time
You stood next to the sink
beautifully frustrated, trying to open a coconut
with a cork screw, doing more damage to your hands
than the fruit. I said, my words broken by the ripples that come
when you stream a moment between two floating points of time.
living spheres of zero mass hanging on the threads of our hearts
"I know you'll eventually get it,
but I'd rather stand here and think how much what you're doing
embodies the story of us."