lifter

drinking outdoors (a glass of wine, the hot sun)
lends lyrics to the wind and every voice is
calling me to softness.

there's a miracle in the movement of leaves across each other (onward, still pushed by the wind) and i've got songs and stories
unknown to tell, a sky
the brings tears to my eyes, no more whispers.

these stories are mine: the bracelet you made (a candy kid so long ago)
made of gold rope and little blue hearts,
yellow butterfly beads and black and blue
round ones. i keep the ending above my dash,
(it blocks the sun from my eyes)
when i move through driveways and down paved roads
the smoothness of your memory, a shade that breaks light through darkness
one sky, one arm-chair
lifted up is how i always was, alive.

2004-07-02 | 4:17 p.m.
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