I stopped waiting,

for that bus that never comes.

I started walking.

Along a path I never knew, with time I never had.


I met you.

I met you and changed.

I met you and laughed.

And wept.

You told me secrets I already knew but now understood.

Nothing matters unless I say it does, and then it does.

You said that.

Talking in tune you said all is God but can’t be spoken about,

that words are metaphor and lie about the thing that are,

and how much you loved those tiny blue flowers.

You promised that meaning is, and truthfulness is alive and well

in Oregon.

I believe you eyes.

I believe your words,

I won’t let go


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