she sees blue earth
beneath lives
scattered–
and knows her worth
in its embers,
she scoops the
ash and
smudges her
cheeks..
reaching for
release.
abstract
drowning in a thought
bubble..
pops and escapes the
dreams that
hid
for years from
retired
kid–
returned as though
he never
left
the pond like
summer
did.
consumed by
couch-
spare change
in hair,
almost didn’t
see me
there,
kind of you to
sit with
me
if only for
a bit,
gets lonely
here
cloaked
in upholstery..
and so hard to
breathe..
must admit.
damp hair in
mirror,
fog
from mouth
hot as dragon’s
song
then gone,
like sticky
dream–
love how you fill a room
with steam
find me on last
page–
turn over new
leaf,
shut book, close
eyes
and question
beliefs
in a story more ready
than the
one
in
your hands,
should you care
to read
on..
with this
man.
were my thoughts
heard..
you’d blush at
the words
chosen to frame
my photo of
you..
always changing,
ever new.
could we imagine the
same moment?
would it dull the
experience?
all that mystery
and intrigue..
of what differs in
you from
me.
full weight upon
the pillow
eyes half open,
though she
snores,
in rhythm with
rain on
roof-
her dreams fog
up the
floor.
on the mind but
not in heart..
where it
best
be..
to truly
see
you for worthiness
you are-
beyond petty wants
and need.
send out the invites
to the clown
fight-
won’t be watching
that show,
for
reasons
undisclosed..
i must decline,
though you’ve offered
front row,
and cheap
wine.
hands in the garden 
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