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Here, the skin will serve as an exit. Shoulders to palms, pores, out fingertips. Fade into nothing, leave an entrance motionless. No battery, yet clenching an atlas. There there's gold, black and green by way of sky, night and stream. A dream coming true. A paradise and you.
I remember the first time. This first time and that first time. Though no more. Are we at the last as we say goodbye?
Lay it in your first knuckle. All four fingers - that's your fulcrum.
right right left
left right right
left left right
right left left
Mallet to rosewood, I felt everything. I wept to the end. I heard you sing: "That's it."
You watched it set from your rear view mirror. I laid in my basement and missed it here. I'll ride my bike when it rises, through to night. You'll see me, I'll be there soon. If you're going, I'm coming too.
Gold Beach. I'm going to Gold Beach.
A coin - silver, separate
from the hands that have held it.
To mine you gave it, locked it.
It turned black in my pocket.
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