get down on your knees, he says,
his voice cadenced with the Sound,
and close your eyes real tightly, please,
and she laughingly obeys, hopes no one's around.
and make a wish from deep inside you,
and she wishes, with childlike awe,
and blow gently, he says, acutely,
and she breathes out, hot and raw.
and open your eyes, he whispers dramatically,
and they burst open,
like of an astonished child,
and behold the grey little fuzzy shivers
blowing away- defiant, pure, wild.
and she laughs at the cheesiness,
kisses him cuz it was sweet,
and into the ocean they aerially retreat,
the dust of a hundred dandelions.

and oceans, they rage, in a beauty profound,
and fill every seashore with their infinite sound,
and children, when they run,
they run like rain falls,
in swift, cleansing streams,
to where Forever calls,
to the stuff made of dreams.
and Love's but a shadow,
on the face of a child,
who stands there and gazes with a tooth- gaping smile,
at the brilliant rays cast by the infinite sun.
but fast comes the night, fast grows the child
and then everything fades in a little sad pile,
and the ocean, and childhood, the harsh burning sun,
sooner or later, everything is gone,
gone,
like the dust of a hundred dandelions.

and
she is at loss, what to do with the pain
that rages within her
like a wound up toy plane.
and she walks through the streets,
stamping it into her footprints,
and she walks till her feet
are aching and sore with defeat,
they beg her to rest, but the pain eggs her on,
and she tells the night air, that she's lost,
and she won.
she won and lost everything,
and how is that fair?
to greet a girl with flowers,
and leave her with air?
and she pauses at the avenue,
pauses for a red light.
and the moon somehow coaxes it into her sight-
a lone scraggly dandelion,
swaying in the breeze,
in a narrow crack in the sidewalk
like an immature tease.
(and she's not of the type to display hurt in the open),
but she falls clumsily to her knees,
cuz something has ruptured, and flooded her insides,
and her eyes rip wide open,
and she kneels down and cries,
cries like a baby,
cries,
with the dust of a hundred dandelions.