Blue

Wide-eyed whispers seem

to trickle down into a loud

open phrase where they become

much more than dissipating sounds

like the words on this page, the

curves and tones making their

ring around the crevices of the brain,

disregarding the distinction or lack

of contours on the face, but somehow

stick with a memory of many firsts-

watching ants frantically scatter

after crushing their hill,

waiting for the sunrise with sunglasses.

Stop the time and the earth still turns,

you are alone with me now,

here and again later in a different space

with different words,

but always