Let's just say we were flying kites,
the devil's cloud gave
ghosts to the wind under black scabby redness,
wrought around a hole of popping flesh.
And then after she spilled the wine on his neck
Remember! he thought,
Hiccups, not longing long arms that hug loved ones with sexyloved eyes,
eyes so far and so close off
that she's a cliff
and he grabs at &
he loves and yells for her.
How pretty that sun sets so softy
while the people
cry for galaxies of gravity.