A figure is framed brush-like by the scaffolding.

His breath holds a word or a phrase or a floating invitation.

We expected this juxtaposition of orange sky with coral artifacts

when the forest placed its bets at your feet.

With just the right pitch and a light touch we fell in love with,

waves rolled listless with summer delight.

Motorcycles and hypertrucks crash through our dreams

with a rising envy we’ve seen before.

I returned to the concrete wall outside the church

where weather conditions mixed emotions

with the shadows of leaves in the wind.

Overhead fans spun in the not symbolic heat of hot asphalt.

Moisten your lips like that again.

I am blinded in your sight.