I can always see the lost
when they're gone
out sweeping the plains for a reason the size of a needle
but answers are such slippery things I'm afraid
and questions,
they stick in your palms like the blades of something shattered
a piece of glass out on the beach
you might say
such expensive questions to have and hold
better to smash it into the bricks
feel the muscle of your shoulder moving with the energy of tension
cool air to hot, boiling eyes
a glittering cloud singing high and powdering little shards onto the side-walk like glitter
crack the colors and turn them over in your fragile fingertips
clench of fist to feel
just to feel
well i can do that
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