Empty me of these etiquettes, these ring a round rosies I play along to, like the laws I follow when they go my way, the dead dreams turned to labyrinth and rabbit rings. Slow me of these jumbles and intersections, the mind spinning out this rough cut cloth, the so thens and what ifs. Shit out the jingles set deep in framework, hardwired from the way to the weld, the songs of the never breathed wind. Let me breathe through this direction, let the weave of blood and breath walk with me for a ways. Let the moon wash on through this current. The light to be and abide.
The wind frets and struts, it’s got moves like Jagger, it spins like the devil in your dreams. A crow caws from a neighboring tree, and a neighbor words some pneumatic tool to death. I’m imbued with blossoms, I am bathed in smoke and dust, kitted up for the sudden cool. From laid low by the oven of the atmosphere, to get grandpa a sweater never the longed for transformation. Black crow circles overhead like it knows I’m talking on it, my tongue bitter with black, cooling coffee, the leaves running their greenery through the down bound sun. My fingers cold, I stop to smoke, and consider the positions.
The winds are all wreck and rumpus, the sky has that goodbye last chance cast to it, a tip of the hat and a wink kind of shine where once you see it you start to feel the gone. The witness washed away in the sheer volume of transitioning majesty, all these breathless beauties and wished on stars and kisses, the sun climbing up the trees to the tippy top. The gloaming at once a go, traffic speeds and staggers, home and fun and night shift intentions. I cough and start and mitigate the mix, the weight of the change between there and strange. The entity so seldom embodied, the animal always ahead on points. A train wails as a child shouts, and my place is put. The sky behaves like a savage.
