See if I can say
what we were thinking, regarding
hows and whys,
rules and regulations
the mortal world you imagine I share
with you is exactly as you think it is.
Your mind makes a make-do, each day,
from sleep to sleep,
very much a Wachowski vision,
without the likes of which,
my people perish, the we
of me and thee, dissipates, vapor
sswoosh and gone, like flowers,
more tomorrow, say the flowers,
to the bees, now we make seeds,
casting all future hopes
into the wind, like a wish or a prayer.
See you when the winter's past,
says the squirrel to the frog.
Story threads at the fringe of my attention span