We were in a crowded place.
No, we were on a boat
hearing the slap of water.
No, we were in the jungle
on a B-movie set.
There is no we
in the archive.
There is only I
with the husk
of the world
of the
sunrise, sunset, no pillow and stone,
no moving stars of earthly time,
just saltaway hope and who knows what
lavender rose and jacaranda
wine too bitter for the glass.
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shakemyheadhollow 