October climbs his porcelain spine
and reaches hand to frothing mind

it tries to pull out something delicate
and smooth
but comes apart like wet tissue paper

i have this dream that you show up here and we run
we run into those woods with our shoes off and cackle
fall on some roots and make out
make out with our roots
all alone
like Brian made out with his roots that night, remember?

we'll never look back,
because unexpectedly, you cast concern aside
and i'll abridge my blues for you
so you can sing it, too.

i'd leave everything, everything behind.

i want to see you
when i turn on the lights