one time i thought i made something of it.
but then some years past and i knew i was just cornering a building,
with very few lights left on.
maybe in park slope.
or carry town.
the differences between places can sometimes be:
only smells.
when your face is pressed against brick,
and your toes are cold,
because flip flops are not appropriate foot ware for an early spring.
no body taught me that. i just learned it, along with other things
that common sense defies or inadequately defines.
i act like i don't care.
and sometimes i actually don't...
but mostly i do
and too much.
this is how the witch hunt starts.
like climbing up a ladder,
or leaning over a tar paper roof,
it's the heights of things that get to me
and ground me
like:
a relief
a map
a drop of syrup
after it's done being sap.
i would start to count on you,
if i was better at math.
- ariel quirolo.
~all words and images are property of ariel quirolo~
---arieltrisityquirolo(stellascura2006)---
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