LXXXV.

it's nothing.
coffee on the corner
these afternoon hours
are nothing.

nothing.
august yawning
the mall and you and me
are nothing.

blinking.
bleeding rearview
a hidden storm walking next to you
quiet lightning.

periphery.
a scar of victory
ann arbor snow and a dogwood tree
are packed up in your bag and so long and so long
as you take to the sky and i'm left with a song
about nothing.

laughing.
sunroof and golden tide
those nightmares will pass you by
it's nothing.

nothing.
sand in my strings again
burning stars all hail the end
of hiding.

dreaming.
glass of water in an apartment
your glowing childhood horizon
just drive it away with a windshield at night
limbs shaking with visions of new york lights
you want to know why i hide the key to my mind
i tie it up in silence or else you might find
that it's you,
it's you,
it's you.

doors close on the metro.
so far away with home
can't say that i'll never know
it's ending.

a jetstream.
trailing watercolor secrets
God is an artist.