This might as well begin right here, the chill in the air, the sea on your knees. The way the sand below you sinks with every step. The way the shadows cast by the heaviest clouds press against you shoulders and your sight. You may as well be stripped bare, for the liberties you're treated to by the atmosphere. All across this continent we reach and crawl and grasp for you, but the night is cold and the night is dark, and warmth's so far away. All around the world there is nothing but the ache and the asking. Shining like some storybook star while the darkness takes its cut.
The day dwindles with the crows on high and the finches feeding from the tangled pines. The mobs and squads find their way in dissolution. All the dreams loosed the night before shift and search, ready for the roost. Muddy shoes and empty coats, the broom left beside the door. The melted moon rises before the sun even gets to say its goodbyes. All these words as the tide returns, salt sharp in your nostrils, beads against your breast. Wading from a place past the timeline. A picture old enough to be worn by fingers, a figure held in mind and hand at once.
It in early yet but the day grows dark. Shadows linger around my ankles, smoke curls from the corners of my lips. The moon unfurls another pretty bauble, a bright slab reveling in the depths of sight. Round the ring and turn the wheel, be nimble and oh so quick. I'm all alone in the voluminous flow of dark and dust, the sounds of cars and recorded music all the roads and borders. My breath, the breeze, and the voiceless ghosts. The corners all shabby with static because I can't count straight. You may as well tumble into my grasp, you linger so close and dear. You might as well be wrapped up in my arms, as all the lights are always going down and the ocean goes on forever.