Maybe the desert promise is the only truth-
and if so it is
all right
i don't need any tolling bells, and quiet prettiness
i only really
want your hand,
which is hovering above
a smirk of words-
a ceiling of sky
a small moment when i knew how to be something
unforgettable,
and was. nothing tastes the same any longer, but
the equipment of memory works a lot
like spring-
it comes swift and hawkish
an dsays that there are some
things you never lose, no matter
how far you run, or if your
eyes stop turning green-
and this
is why I have nothing at all to say, and I am smiling, and I
am always
extraordinary
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