Simple As

Wind through the door- smile and close it. I can’t believe we’ve met, can’t believe the thing I didn’t know I cared to be real- blissfully unaware about how I needed to be touched- can be believed into the real simple as art made manifest, then prodded over and over in failed attempts to equate interpretation with truth- truth the realist jest. And yet, it is a thing we gave a name- collective unity never before seen, nor has it been since.