you call them miracles
weightless - they rest in the back of your heart
soothed in the red infrastructure
safe from any conundrum of your conscious


my hands have been searching
ever since yours ran away
out of commission does its job
of salting landscapes of forgotten palms


empty sheets are irrelevant when empty dreams
carry you from one regret to the next
promising the endless night long overdue
requested at a perfect summer


days are a lot like excuses
they drift like strangers through towns
though excuses should not be confused with miracles
those come straight from the heart