“At least two men, now, want me done.
One for nothing.
Everything for the other one.
Two men to see me dead.
For the first time, it’s not in my head.
Seaside, see me walking.”
Running, he’s reading to her.
Squirming, holds a face full of snakes.
Glowing, she laughs at his love and
his stories of long lost downhill brakes.
He was never pretending.
“You, only you, fill your sails.
Dancers will not transfer whales.
Care solely for their own dancing.
Never, not once a raven.
Safe haven for hearts when feet fail.
Waving when ships wouldn’t sail.
Bringing taps back to dancing.
You get so used to the stale.
Beggars don’t choose their own tale,
only return with their begging.
Man, two men want to kill me.”
Wonders if he was pretending.