ok, fine. I wrote this about 5 years ago.
I sleep in their park where you saw me off,
the dim atom on this moonlit mountainside
that we only knew through a bird telescope.
Dawn's probing lens will never unearth me.
They defy gravity in the caverns above me
and let me drift between their empty homes:
cactus gardens, heavy curtains, and then
I imagine you're here, at the end of a road.
I spent last night deep inside my closet,
fending off black widows, trying to fix
my old walkey talkey, to reach someone,
to channel that boy from his room in the valley.
Please be kind. And if you hate it, then either don't say so, or lie to me!
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"..and my tongue to tell you the sweetest lies.."