A long time ago,
I was a lone sparrow
who flew like the present
upon yesterday’s wind.
When I picked up
pine needles,
they were tomorrow
and I knew that yesterday
would never come again.

Sail away, small bird.
Over distant oceans
Tip down your beak
Let it touch the sea.

Sail away, small bird.
Don't let the crashing
waves touch you. Don't
let them spray your wings.

Sail away, small bird.
Drown out the roar
Of the current with the
gentle hum of the breeze.

Sail away, small bird.
Away from everything.
Away from home.
Away from me.

Oh, soft lavender fields
                                     dancing
             over the hills
                                                  to you.
Olives; wine in your glass
                                       deep purple
              over the hills
                                         splashing
Over the hills
                          pouring down
                                                    into the sky
chasing away
                       orange minnows.
On soft lavender
                          dancing
                 over
                          to you.

It makes me angry
That all these years
I have sat,
longingly searching
for the green light.

Yet, when I reached out my arms
to embrace destiny,
I found myself hugging smoke;
My Daisy, nothing more than
a forgotten dream reflected
in the dark waves of the lake,
like scattered puzzle pieces
under the moonlight.

When I was little
I played with plastic toy knives
and dragged them across
my brother's throat
saying, "You're dead!
You're dead! You're dead!
I swear, you're dead!"

And we pretended
kool-aid was blood,
letting it drip down
my chin and neck,
down my chest,
past my pec.

I wrecked my bike
and ran for days.
I was stung by bees and swore,
"Nothing could hurt more
than this."

And when I turned twelve,
I learned how to ******* to dreams.
The grip on my skateboard
wouldn't let go of me.
I ollied over plastic bags
and stared at lottery tickets
sleeping in the garbage.

She and I played with fireworks
faster than shooting stars.
We waded in the lake,
being a cliche.
She and I rolled on the grass, naked.
I don't know where she is, now.

I don't know.

What would I say
Were you to take my hand,
The puzzled look in your eye
One not of love, but betrayal.  
The memory of my sandals grazing
Your worn army green boots beneath
The table, as a tear slid
Down the bridge of your nose
Looking like chocolate syrup against the
Brown of your skin. How can
I explain without tasting the mint
Of your Spear toothpaste and feeling
The wet of your palm in
Mine, your lips reaching down to
The slice in my finger, *******
Out the blood till the sting is gone.
How do you scream into ears
The harsh reality, when they
Have always whispered the
Soft truth into yours.
Sinking off the edge, it is
Easier to kiss the back of
Your neck than the tenderness
Of your lips goodnight.

While you turn your head precariously
towards the soft autumn seeping in
through the open window, and your
brown hair flutters in the cool breeze,
I watch your face: as your eyebrows draw
forward in thought, creating coal black
hawk wings arching across your forehead,
as you pucker your lips in contemplation,
as you exhale a slight sigh, trying to make
sense of it all.  

In that moment,
I hope you understand the extent to which
I am not next to you, but with you. Floating
along, entangled with the soft lavender of
your perfume drifting upon the breeze, dropping
seeds of brokenness and hope wherever it is
the wind may carry you.