Anomaly.

The sunset is at a distance.Drapery.
It mocks my distance from it.It glows like a matchstick in the womb of still darkness.
The patterns in the sand are the shadow of the clouds a shifting.
The world is a stage
and I am waiting.

Her fantasy.

And there she sat,like a red brick in a mud wall.The infinite erasers spilled across the table,she sat there like an unfinished charcoal painting.
There was a hale of stars in the stellar sky.Like a pleasant surprise.The snowflakes were infinite,they fell,each to the ground,like they belonged.
The universe was a masterpiece and she looked on.
The jagged edges like a broken mirror,she shone a millions light rays like a dazzle,withheld,glowing.

Unfinished business was risky as there was so much to explore.Like a bar stool with a piano that came by.A lottery ticket and luck.These things together were like a fireplace in winter.Embers of dusty ash spewing warmth.

There was the coolth of a burning ice cube that melted in the palm.There were rainbows and unicorns as they all go together as fantasy.
She lived.

ring my bells.

its december tomorrow
and i crave some sorrow

i try to hide in your clothes

breath and death are so much in rhyme
i'd choose you time after time.

because.

and your foot steps go unheard
slowly backward
onto the steps and out of the door

I hide in your old clothes
the ones you left

like a dog without a bone.

His hands were like mad rakes on wet mud.Like the labor of gardening a beautiful masterpiece.His eyelids were like mathematical dangling puzzles that might just be unsolved forever.

His manly ardor was sinking on the hospital bed.
I still have a shirt.
He was ninety one.
I still run my fingers through my forehead and my scalp through my hair and sigh.
till we meet again.