the early voice was creaking the accumulated wooden rasping of trees and weathered bridge thoughts
dull wood – rough and grey
the light shone blue green through the morning dissonant looks while we stared remembering
studying the grain of the face and trying to read each other’s age
this splintering division caused by previous evening’s rum, whiskey, wine, beer, and other
I have never been so happy I said
My feet have never felt so unclean you responded, not to me, but to the trees outside our window… your window
Softly, I began to blow away like a pile of leaves
while you continued to study the sky oblivious, just swaying.