lila demi-wood

It's what you can see when you close your eyes:
bottles of cigarette wine suspended in dust on basement shelves,
begging pardon in a white-eyed dress through the wind,
and the vein-laced tongues inside your eyelids.
It's the thick taste of toothpaste miracles
you can't escape on long summer afternoons,
and I believe your nirvana shakes will
pass after a time.

Suitcase after suitcase scuttling full of
crabs and moonflowers through your hallways,
trains skip the tracks, chains of clover and ballpoints
collect dust in a sun-wet field and you peek over smoked glasses.
My dear, so time runs out... well, what if it does?