After Almost Hearing You Speak

maybe the desert promise
is the only real truth-

and if so it is
all right.

i don't need any tolling bells, and quiet prettiness-

i only really
want your hand,
which is hovering above
a smirk of words-
a ceiling of sky
a small moment when i knew how to be something


and was. nothing tastes the same any longer, but
the equipment of memory works a lot
like spring-

it comes swift and hawkish
and says that there are some
things you never lose, no matter
how far you run, or if your
eyes stop turning green-

and this
is why I have nothing at all to say, and I am smiling, and I
am always