think about direction

we heard you say it was meant to look like running paint, but we all know what that meant-

the lovely shapes your skull makes, shadows in boats on seas we dream of-

what do stars really mean, you told us with your cryptic southern state rap step-

influenced razors and sleeping partners, and stood in your place of plain sight-

& if this is sex I want it, & if this is love I want it more, & those may have been your words,

you are after all, in part your star spangled chest, the reason I can say this-

awe is only one hold of the cradle that is not prepared to fall-

the saints of snow still hold heads differently than those sun blessed-

and I've been here hours waiting, but could not tell you what the table top is made of-

shared drink with both hands on one glass in six eight time-

and somehow none of that is frightening any more, but another bit of dust-

a second piece for you dear friend, sectioned eloquently as you might prefer-

could not tell the color of the bathroom walls, kitchen curtains, or iris accurately-

the keys have worn thin and difficult to read-

modern woman with a world trade agenda, two bold knowing lovers, a grandparent's buck-knife-

and a gut twisting urge to let it all out of the bag