in memories we sit. we sit in a memoir of
our only true elevation and wonder why
the breeze below us;
is below us.
he watched the silver as the sun washed his
free lined appearance shrivel in the lit concrete
street; he bent over praying for more glory in
a moments’ day.
lay with me till we die in empty skies.
see the walls around us and
close your eyes to their demise.
