I Spoke To A Tree Today

a backroad
of
patience.
running thin while
the hours limp by.
our ears cant
come to
an
agreement.

a glimps into
the future.
a scarce meeting,
of reality and
dreams.
my mind opens to the
lush surrounding,
and furtile environment.

eyes following
the flickering lines.
a sore rump,
soft focus, and
stiff joints.
the lines
come still.

closing my eyes
to pass the
time.
even this damp
nautral darkness
does little to quell
my tingles.

she walks out,
covered in satin.
not making eye
contact. pulling me
closer without
speaking.
her body moves
as a river
flowing
out to sea.
ending in a red
flash of passion.

flouresent colors
streak the
faces.
of the buildings
on the side of
the road.
a peacfull drone,
washes over
the pavement.

and yet,
throughout
my travel. my feet
never complain,
or help to
decide the out come.

bad day to
have six legs.
'whats the last thing to
go through a bugs
head, when
he hits the
wind shield? '
a cold sweat breaks
out over my soft hands.
my fathers smooth voice
coxes me back



'his ass.'

by Charles Dawes

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