1610

chasing the light.

out of it.

June and Christmas. out of it.

I preached out of palms.

I want a lamppost night (i stay).

Taylor and his daddy’s .22 and my

indecision

and my open breath my soft hands.

I stay.

moth balls and kerosene and

beige tents and pink houses and

something under the reach. I

don’t.

I don’t.