Sky openly crying
Drenching the earth below
Washing away sweat
She stabbed the sky with her thumb
Waving it towards the interstate
She puts one muddy foot in front of the other
Shifting the weight of the world
Carried diligently across state lines
Tucked behind the rain fly
A basket weaver stopped
Before offering a glass of water
And a dry towel
I took you up on your offer nonchalantly; changing perspective.
Hashtags & tic-tac-toe; pounding it out like a British Sterling steak.
This sentence making as much sense as a commoner’s commonly known commodity.
Summertime in suburbia, stuck under rooftop terrace tea lights.
A perfect yardstick
Three meters measured
Fifteen stories tall
Missing the thirteenth floor
Playing put-put between calls
Industry shuttered, sheltered out of sync; what’s more critical – dollars or what makes sense?
This meeting could have been an email phishing scam
(rolling eyes spinning)
Or digitally televised
Six feet underground
The command was six feet
They never specified the direction.
There is nothing anywhere
that doesn’t remind me
of who you were.
Puka shell necklace,
aloe scented salty skin,
summer breeze through hair.
just beyond arm’s reach;
we like it here,
bright in the morning.