the sky and i collide again
late at night
when the birds are silent
it is writing a story
that we cannot understand
(not without a telescope)
and to break the haze of
foggy midnight
i think of how i loved you
the, i love you
now, i love you
still
i tell the moon a story
about car rides
fact and fiction blurred
(a modern measure
of mortality
i would rather ignore)
but the midnight
fades to brightest dawn
and i am left
without the rhythm
(disclaimer: its not about who you think it is)
