a long awaited return.It was raining when we landed.A shockto our sun-drenched systems,stumbling with snatched-away sleep.Another bus, another trainwhirring upon endless tracks.We run, we flee through foreign streets disdainful eyes stare on,watching fugitiveoutsiders - desperate for a tasteof home.
Alive Like Dirt-Winter vanished, a dreamMinutes after having woken;The imprint and the linesStill crisscrossing the edgesOf thought, retreating at myTouch. It was important. I think. I thought.Though, I've lost it now. Am reeling now.I reached out, five distinct Points forming a living symbol. A tool. &