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        My presence is like magma in him.
   While I straightened my arm at the elbow:
        I remembered his face nine times.
    This close to absolute zero:
  movements are painted.
One day we will freeze here together with the light.
    What does it mean: don't go there today?
  Or I'll become part of some other self-pompous moment:
            when crater bodies return from space.
          I would like that better.
         To rain.
       Every time he enters:
             he wants to look away:
                 and then his eyes fog up:
           but otherwise with each breat 
      he somehow becomes transparent.
   Through the thermal vision:
dark red areas spread around his chest 
        and his fingers are almost turquoise.
          What does it mean: today?
              When?
         The furrowed dry pattern
          on his human lips
    somehow keeps pulling my mouth towards itself.
        Where?