Sky and . . .

From up here, far above I’d hoped for a sense of her running fingers across stuttering eyelids of regret gasping ribbons of breath, stuck lips to teeth of bald tires on suicide turns . . . short fingernails finding purchase only in Faith. Her heart keeping time, marking mine hardly disturbing enmity between smooth pebbles and the texture of his words on her exposed sensibility as to the way of distant love . . . and she sighs. as a perfect fit tightens with the brighter light of passing.time. But from up here, her feet followed . . . in worn out flipflops the way of his endearments ruffled skirt playing about pretty calves as she sang out-of-tune of a blue and windy day in chill mountain clarity But then she looked up at me wearing earrings from the sky . . . in colours to match her eyes . . . as she threw back her head a.n.d. laughed