Sketch

Nights I dream of rivers and highways.
Awaken, piled; my bones
mixed with your bones.

Our hands, like four curious ferrets
roam the terrain; cross borders
into other continents, curl about
and fall asleep, content.

---

We used to sip red wine
and run through the city at night.

We ran down highways,
across neighborhoods,
through buildings
and people
and Eyes

entire lives lived within the boundaries
of one infinitesimal point in space, a breath
between the ribs of a hummingbird.

The sky is built of granite, they say,
they'll never leave this city.

---

We awaken on a quiet Sunday morning,
birds chirp. (you kiss me)

The city hiccupped,
the earth tripped over her feet;
the sun ruptured and the entire universe split.

And you asked, simply and quietly,
are you sometimes afraid of falling into the sky?