towards another end
the black sky of winter postures

¬fireflies like stars by
depictions of dancing¬

ochre soil of rock escarpments
flood plains, buffalo grazing
and you smile at me as we’re driving

it seems presence always has a way of disassociating

  I have so much to say
but when you’re attentive it all feels cliché

   just play me piano keys and ruminations

when the storms sink the streets
and drains overflow with branches
there’s always that desire to stand amongst it