this is the way the world goes. sick linoleum skin. chemical burns. all these hours wasted on the inane drip of loss. like the uselessness of nose bleeds. and food. i had a dream that i flew to your undemocratic country. and we stood like old lovers and pressed palms and eye lashes. and stole moments toward forgiveness. resuscitation. these days. only the dream of you alive and well. locked in a picture book memory smile. makes me keep moving.