sweet pearls those grains of dew molded on your lips— your bottom lip a story for some other ear on some other day and cuts of wood with such warm tones like a beautiful head of hair waving, tousled incandescent patchouli lavender and ice it's a story she told me when I was a boy I was a pair of overall jeans and a day was forever and she was a queen I was a guy with socks on his hands and you were a girl once so where did our moment go, and with whom? I can't recall or even see beyond what's just in front of me and while I watched the lightnings dance and test the margins of the sky while the earth was beaten with sopping hail from gusty winds and breathless lips I couldn't say I knew the difference when I was anyone and you were everything a moment balanced on its edge a lifetime a feint or whatever you call it anyway that time we ceased forevermore seems like it was yesterday
poem: patchouli and ice
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