horse hair on metal strings I know, I know how it feels.
it feels like the pull of those kitestrings strung from your
fingerprints
spelling out the hated word you missed in your first and last spelling
bee,
in front of all those shadows.
c-o-n-s-c-i-o-u-s.
and there are blue bruises on your chin but you don't really know
what's wrong anymore, the pinpoints are missing.
that is, until you drive it off,
get lost in the quarry. you'll find them again.
the sweet hills are running towards the sea,
just like you are running into evil me.