i said "let's go back to california where all our dreams 
became chords in songs we never sang and 
all our hopes turned into snapped strings."
she said "let me take my mirror and my books
for all our broken hearts will surely be stories 
and all these stories will leave my eyes a blurry, runny
so what else could i do? 

i said "i'll see what i can do."

and we went. 

on the drive, we listened to hymns that strummed, strummed
our heart-strings and we read each other verse 
that struck our heart(s) of hearts with a canonical
left behind were past flames (now dead or dying), families, winter-time,
autumn, autumn colors, the twin cities, and people we never really cared 
to speak to again anyway. 

we arrived and settled in. 

and we are there to this very day. 


1 comment:

  1. your repetition of certain words gives this a great a flow. and your last line is so very "eric."
    the style inspired me to write a poem. but i deleted it.