i find that my fingertips and
your visage are nearly inseparable;
as i trace, you smile, and the wrinkles
in your face remind me that
even the most beautiful things
can be laced with imperfection

I tried music
Squeezing my head dry of emotion
I tried drawing
Scratching out an imperfect form through the window
I tried to read, but
There were no pages I could turn.

So, I sat back,
And crossed my legs,
Leant my head back on
My hoodie-pillow
The sleepy sunlight fell and
Tumbled through the dust pane
A smile on its face.

All faces forward
And all mouths shut
The meditative silence
Propped up by the hum

And for a moment
If only for two
We might all sit back and
Live in two times of space between
The fretful embark and the doughy step-off

The bus.

segregated churches
segregated souls
segregated fires
segregated coals

segregated freedom
segregated dreams
segregated whispers
segregated screams

segregated neighbors
segregated homes
segregated doorways
segregated zones

segregated people
segregated minds
segregated signals
segregated signs

segregated graveyards
segregated souls
segregated shovels
dig segregated holes

Mourn not seeking the shades
For shadows are light and light shades
Fear not fearing cowardice
Cowardice is you, fear is a tale

Live not your lived past
Past was yours, you are present
Shed not the pearls from ocean deep
Pearls are precious, save for crescent

Breathe not in scented air
Scent is delusion widely sprayed
Adorn not in ornaments
Life is a play, set and staged

Hear not music nor whispers within
Dust is everything and dust within