you think you know where you want to go,
unable to know where you are?
small spaces hold a universe of ache.
leaving is all I’ve ever known,
all I am ever able to truly do.
when you are walking down streets
and I no longer do so,
does it mean you are any more there than I am?
does it mean that you’re leaving and mine
some how differ?
we can not fit any more into any space than the universe,
and that too leaves its own ache down it s own street.
all there is, no guide to us
or any one else for that matter.
Micky Corbo hair do
cool tree in yellow back from the end of the year
crows like days between the worlds
all lemoning and impossible to capture.