yellowing teeth and how
elegantly he drives this car yet
still there's motion sickness
as I hold one nostril to inhale hard
through the other and I've been
doing this frequently enough to
know it won't get better soon because
love like this doesn't fade as the
seasons do and I've tried to make
winter end quicker but the chill
lingers longer than the
tremble of my legs and the
numbness in my throat. I feel old
like an oak tree and weak like a bee
against a boot but
I feel free, still. Flying
disembodied
I feel love I sing
I ring through alleyways
at three in the morning sometimes
six. The song of the lost child
bouncing into brick walls calling
anyone to come find him.
Please.