That fleck in the sky is a crane, or heron chasing the river’s course perhaps it’s northward here, along this curve, this bend not far from Franklin. To the south is the uncaptured rising moon. Also uncaptured is the stranger who held me in samba on the white sand, acting out my secret fantasy. Manifested into a self abandonment reality, complete with whiskey drunken from a stainless steel shot glass via a plastic flask. Again uncaptured is the burning red sunset that watched us like some benevolent fairy godfather.
Well goodbye to the goodwill,
good water
drain me away
preoccupied
places
progress
messes
making
Oh free me
believe me
this is a risk worth taking.
