days i dream of august

the only words i dare say

are days,

from another somewhere,

when i,

fit our longings into us

and her brown eyes into my

earth-stained forever,

yes

the forever we both promised, the

it's already august,

the september twenty fifths

and the

fourth st. of daisies

.....

there is a ledge that stands

up to the entrance

of your hello,

and a cliff behind

your i don’t

love you anymore.

without harness,

below steepness,

your facade

invites reckless

for the pure sake of the view within

your come find me

.....

deliberating

i was cautious

you

wished

i'd

simply want this

but said

you needed to summit

by sunset

and couldn't wait

solely,

for the chance to miss it

so i penned my name coward,

on the heels of your

i want us,

because i didn't

climb with you

because i

feared falling, because

i feared a horizon

of not looking out together,

all the while you

knew of places to rest,

that even though you climbed higher

faster, you said

you’d be patient

while i took breath

......

deliberating,

i was cautious

unlike days i dream

of August,

on that baseball field

in a rain storm,

racing puddles

into fairytales,

where all the clay,

sprayed

from our head first

plot lines,

played

weather braving

birds into our soundtrack

if baseball fields

were castles,

and your bare feet chasing mine,

the kiss that broke spells

and ever after,

we transcended fiction,

and became

sleeping beauties and princes

.....

and all the clay,

washed from my striped shirt and jeans

from your green sun dress and feet,

drips to my earth-stained forever,

goddamn i loved her knees

Art

'Musique Seine Michel Bataille et Moi'

by Joan Miro