XLV.

can't brush you off my shoulder.
still feel your salt-washed hair.
it stirs wells in me
that i found you.

here i go to the land of your mind.
i'll need no skyscraper view
to see you walking those bridges and tunnels.

if you see souls behind eyes
then i am terrified
of what you'll see in me.

touching down from the midnight sun,
from canals in the cities of songs
and only new york will hold in my eyes.