speaks the sepia soldier, what say you- the grass no longer greens nor is greener blurred through waters- temperatures rising tasting compromising flavors savors sun-kissed fables staples followed Mable Mayflower, spring strings with color streaming ribbons gleaming glass against fingertips and breath- like a tiger, or a rat frantic like the dying man's last rap prayers echoed like- air. falls from the precipice to another peak, "we never speak" precious, precious, pretentious quote us phrases, lay we down like concrete, in concrete surrounded by concrete where we'll dance and it won't matter that we aren't dancing