Feral dreams
come over us-
out on the
ranch is desolate-
and stopping,
stopping-
and slowing down.
Slowly, smoothly
bringing the car
to a halt
by the side of
the road.
We’re out of
gas and
the road seems
empty, always
dreaming, always
sleeping, maintaining a
thick blanket
of emotion rawness
to eat, always.
No comments:
Post a Comment