tout de suite. 2008.
granite points and shifts of some-rock
the objects of our affection might change
to replay the chord to box up the wine
bottles I left at your sink
we scrambled to the top and broke out the
camera
I can hear your good-bye slowly
condensing flat third on the front window
describing
me. peeling paint instead of the bridge we climbed.
with a photograph we drew our weapons
four sharps but the melody still comes
through.
I thought I would live in a thousand
countries, with hundreds stored still
as
if the wars did not come to them
I played rogue you’re the playwright
slowly the birds of the spring the gulls
the link
the ice fields loosen their hold to the
ground
three inches each year will bring the
whole shelf down
the north and the south; my love was not
like that
hearts do not steer when you ask them to
turn
melodies surprise the mind when they’ve
been lost for years
and exposing the heart’s route can wash
away the trail
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