Pearl drops in the mist
Dusty roads he walked
singing all along
But then, he balked...
Emptied and afraid, the landscape
shrank around his ankles
since he fell for you
waiting and still draped in blue
almost a statue, alabaster
Focus the trees for the understanding
of his private thoughts, the flow
of blood beneath the linen
astounds, resounds and transforms
the moment she fell into
too, she a puppet representing you
on a shelf, behind glass, resting
god knows from what
from the tumult of rush hour
or the death of a season
a salesman on the dotted line