Far away on a dark hill,
Stands a girl,
Reminiscing in pieces of black and white
And trying to distinguish between the two.

Like Jonathon and David,
Two kindergarten mud pies
Are smothered together,
Then ripped apart when nobody’s looking.

A silent memory that holds
Tiny, treasured pebbles
In a crystal pool of black lead,
Left to erode ...
Little by little ...
In the years of leftover rain.

Slaughtered vegetables
Mark meaningless jokes
That drive the mangled thoughts
Of two girls
Past society’s mutilated views
To hidden treasures,
Eager to be discovered.

A summer of battered toilet seats
And broken relationships,
Rust
Inside long-forgotten dreams.

And the girl stands there,
On the tip of the world,
Staring up into the eternal ebony of sky.
And dripping salt onto her cheek
And the past cradles her in its arms,
Then carries her beyond the stars
To the hand that loves her most.