The waves crash on the shore below us. It’s beautiful here. I could sleep here forever...
Orbs of air, like weightless quicksilver, slide from my nose as I roll to my back.
And now I see where you had been standing, that air blessed with the fragrance of your sweat...
I wait here, listening to the words here and there that flutter out through the screened windows...
How can I explain that he’s been the same person over the course of forty or more years’ worth of TV shows...
Last night was still and quiet when I stepped out for smoke. I had quit months ago. But I wanted to feel that smoke in my lungs again.
I can no longer see his eyes. They are buried behind petals and greenery. The eyes themselves may be feeding the root.
Leaves 