your absence
buoys
me up
how
strangely we met
and
intersected
(i suspect)
i think
like pineapples and kismet.
i
piece things
together and
we
were meant to be.
maybe.
the turbulent old days
of summer
and the
speed of our triumphant
rise and fall
belies
the true meaning
of today:
you could save it,
like the
rind
of a thousand boats.
No comments:
Post a Comment