Night belongs to us, the day is forbidden.
Searching for a tea kettle.
Something Christmas-y in me, something maternal.
Finding roads with you, finding ways.
Lovers are the site of remembering what mattered at the beginning.
You bookstore, you, you library.
Take me, that's how.
Seduction is an agreement to be bound by lies in order to remember what is true.
Say again what we learn together.
Sunlight on the only birch tree with which I have a chance.
Faking it sometimes, sometimes improvising, always in it though.
Butterflies make me cry, tell me again what this means for our relationship.
Telling K I'm lost in what resembles a Peanuts cartoon.
Near the bottom sex is merely power but past the bottom it's pure communion, which is about everything, including sex.
Refusing sleep - refusing forgetfulness - paying anyway.
Icarus rising from eternally smoking embers comforting Hansel and Gretel coming back from the witch, the teller pleading with her audience to get something right about who serves who and when.
Never really had a home, was never really homeless, nor did I travel.
Nothing ends, there's nowhere to go, that's how.
Pumpkins ripening in tall grass by the garden, another summer gone, another ring of Heavens.
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