acraein

And now it’s the future and I don’t sit beside plastic leaves and steam. It’s a busy road, it’s tops and toes, birds and trees. If I pop a lid there’s still steam but it’s rising majestically from a paper sleeve.  I wanted ivy and leaves, I got rocks and onion stalks. These days I talk and I don’t talk. They’re killer waves, these conversation saves, shaking earth, breaking things to elements. People reduced to common sediments. Stars shine to remind that we’re insignificant. We live to live and dying is a period.