echolalia

So goes the greens, so goes the blues, the middle of the sky sight and the restless unseen ocean. So goes the cracks in the pavement, the press of joy and threat in your breath, the sweep of wings behind every last word whispered. The lift and swoop of every story left to tell, the hook of every song left to hear. The long lost and the gathered forevers spilling like petals impatient for the fall.

I said it in case you were listening. I said it just for something to say. Hands in the air like you just don’t care, hands in the air like your money wasn’t your life. The wish it was it wasn’t, the want left there in pieces. The patter like rain, the palaver settled into the bones of the moment, tattered rags motionless on the line. The cold heart untouched by the ambivalent sun.

I guess it was the current custom, the exchange of pleasantries, the volley before the serve. I guess it was a passing fancy, a phase to take in stride. Word for word, stride for stride, the mystery untouched by alibi or explanation. Something to pass the time between doses of real life. Something to bury in palliatives and the severed light of stars.