Vancouver 1/17/10 Clouds bare small crosses made from our every exhale.  The roof below is a ceiling above the neighbors.  Maybe we’ll dance when brooms touch our heels.  As friends, we laugh.  As strangers, we laugh harder.  Peeling sleeves, we expose skin and trade scars marked by art.  Here’s my “X”.  Here’s my soft.  I’ll trust your aim.  I’ll trust your trust. We’ll pose like men, fearful of heights.  Looking out, we’ll guess our futures.  Looking down, we’ll remember where we’ve been.  Looking to eachother, we’ll close our eyes.

Vancouver 1/17/10

Clouds bare small crosses made from our every exhale.  The roof below is a ceiling above the neighbors.  Maybe we’ll dance when brooms touch our heels. 

As friends, we laugh.  As strangers, we laugh harder.  Peeling sleeves, we expose skin and trade scars marked by art.  Here’s my “X”.  Here’s my soft.  I’ll trust your aim.  I’ll trust your trust.

We’ll pose like men, fearful of heights.  Looking out, we’ll guess our futures.  Looking down, we’ll remember where we’ve been.  Looking to eachother, we’ll close our eyes.

Posted 1 year ago
2 notes
  1. peterwolfcrier posted this