Evening Motion Sickness

Twas for the river that I think of you.
About that agony smile.
The denim closing stars following as we walk to "Fourth time Around".
Those grey soaked fingers.
The curls of brown blanketed.
The easy clouded stride.
That soft sight peaking back like film.
The grasp in grasp.
That defying glide from the lips.
The silent dance from the waist.
So wicked.
The further air.
The fruitful chaos.
And the watery time known before decay.



Garrett Johnson.