a fluorescent full moon
guided {us}
quilted moths.
gravel crunched,
nails clicked.
where the wall
meets the sidewalk
leaked the giggle
of a shared secret.
we've encrypted these moments
like the fingerprints
that grip the world -
gently, but with purpose.
a quip - the last of the rarest jokes on earth like snowfall > April showers - befell. We shared this moment the way two people watch a...
it's a hard thing, this lucid living: sitting on a donated couch in an already-sold house with someone whose grave I had just visited....
I don't care that you dreamed about me. a not-so-great man once oh-so-greatly said, "I don't think about you at all."
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