to tell me a story as
I often do to the one lying there next
to me what would you tell
I am seeking the lines from your life the thoroughfare that brought you here
and gave you those gorgeous, freckled shoulders and delightful crease between your brow
what lines have you drawn in the sand
of time with the finger there of your left hand for
you are left-handed in this life
and the delicate newly grown nail piecing the smooth silken surface parting the
veil of your life
-where you lost the original in the car door-
how wonder
full can you make me see
tell me a story