Salt
maybe if
I didn’t know
maybe I could get
some sleep
and dream again
of something
soft
deeply down
not a surface scratch
of daylight dozing
a zombie stare
into the middle of nowhere
I see my peers there
in pretense
they, too, are disappointed
for Christmas lasts
but a day
when you first believed
there wasn’t a receipt
time I believe
time is what I know
to be true
maybe the only truth
you have this time
this time given to you
in a glass bottle
handspun
and you take it
and chunk it
into the bluest sea
and hope for the best
as you step bare
across all that sand
there
spilt into a glassy sea
that shimmers
and looms at night
now, they sit
at traffic lights
moving in mechanic waves
across a dark abyss
where the moon moans
and grapples with gravity
retreat
and return
TL