LXI.

cold mineral water.
i will fall asleep writing this.

warm night wind
glass catching lamplight in my hands
as the jeep sails on.

what you don't know.
how you make a home in my thoughts
like the cranes that hang from the ceiling
like the bass that swings low
like sore feet and muscles made of sand

he says that this is life,
and life isn't the world.
the world is where life happens.

i watch you dance through the pulse
crash up a mountain
my hair loose and it's this life, this life, this life