i told you

yesterday

that it had been a deeply beautiful day

and you, nodding with fierce, agreed

                                        (at that point,
                                         hadn't you notice, how your recent looped hair
                                         started to perform like vigorous hands, moved only
                                         by your thoughts?)

you claimed we had spoken already about that 

when we step out of the house, in the morning                           

                              (as if the air didn't hold any undescriptible magic in itself)

although

nothing

not even the slightest thing

made you participant of its existence.

                                               (unlike me)