Curiosity, kind soul under a sweater.
Lost between yellow and green.
We were young, didn’t know any better.
Or maybe we just didn’t care.
Standing, her back to scenes from old movies.
In the sun she squints at me.
Torn and tired, mountains moving beauty.
Or maybe we weren’t really there.
We stand in front of fiction.
We stand between the screens.
She smiles in confusion.
She smiles before she leaves.
I follow indifferently.
Trace sounds back to mountains.
Climb memories down to fiction.
Show me where you spend time in the morning.
Bend between thought and coffee.
We reset. Start over without warning.
Catch an old breath of fresh air.
Take me back to where I’m leaving from.
Drive me, whisper ‘Don’t you see?
Our paths will weave until they’re one.
One of these days we’ll be somewhere.’