45*21

fate always false phase
so there must be something there
but the clouds shatter
airship floats through
we grab an idea to solder together
it's like bicycle parts
at a chicken shack
the way he walked you could see the favoring
an inevitable stroke
not one of luck but smoke and mirrors
the boat on the lake going toward nothingness
try me out at campfire light
don't unfurl like you like it to
the shred of carport drums
and suburban light
makes you laugh, think of the 80s
quietly sipping sorrow's champagne
that gardener pulling stones to vegetate
escape to some land deep in sequestered dream
a painting you can't quite access
the moon just laughs