it was not today, when it happened.
strawberries drenched in snow... the variable longitude of our hapless maps
and the whole thing strapped to an invalid,
the regional Apocalypse
of our near kiss. The gun in the hand.
The cool spark of Bibles
and the wrath
of all pygmies.

it was not today, when it happened.
but the choir sang
and worlds between worlds
twirled in the underneath.
and a blanket of Sunshine darkened our pedigree.
but you ate peaches
to dream another
peach

and came from Nowhere...

after me.