We Swing In Earnest

A heavy load makes little progress:
slow courtship marked by the constant toll
of the self-promoting Nostradamus
who decodes the end of the exceptional
as ineluctable amnesty swims through the door.
We swing in earnest,
asking questions like embroidery,
blowing kisses and chances
like incidental pollen in a faltering accent--
You spill your drink all over me,
I spill myself all over you, holding your head
as we fold and join the nervous herd.