Reluctant

Reluctant,
he slows down
like a well seasoned Friday
approaching
that event horizon

where time cannot touch us
we sit at the edge and wait
for time to also slow
for on this side
time cannot really stop

by the light of the moon
there’s a shack
or a house, or a hut, or a lake
it’s wherever the lovers meet
in their imagined reality

can they see them? I think not
can they hear them?
I say what for?
come with me, my friend, he says
quietly opening her door

sweet ghost, you are mine
I know
no longer elusive
in your transparentness