This is a poem from memory.
When I first wake up, I remember where I am.
A dream ago, I was a car salesman buying my first used car.
I can't see my next step.
I can hear terrifed bodies.
This is a poem from memory.
"Soriah chopped these down."
"Soriah, I love you," whispers I, the water.
This is a poem from memory
I think of it for days, and then I think no more.
I can't. He is done to me.
This is a poem from memory.
But he is not gone.
He stays and lingers, like moldy cheese.
So stay, and dazzle me with quick lines, and a cute smile (a really cute smile)
And you and I can dance on the moon (light) sic?
Or wait, silently, and kiss the air gently.
This is a poem from memory.
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