There is something about a wink that tells you a billion conversations in one, like you’re standing behind the curtain with someone as you watch the theatrical performance evolve. A wink wraps up two people in a blanket of unspoken ground, it speaks of an achingly limitless potential, it lights up the fire of mystery about the origins of potential at all. It trembles with the confidence that there’s something known to wink about at all. And it asks – what now?

When you wink at me you tell me 
that the ground you know
is knowable to me.
That you know ground at all.
You tell me I could bring up
anything I want before your ears.
Though time tells me to pick and choose -
We wink because we know
it is logistically
impossible
to say it all.
A wink is a gesture outside of time.
A wink knows no time at all.