la plage sud
Some people want to help
some want to talk
Some know there is a difference
between sick and sickly.
That one ends,
one is.
I hate how I look through your eyes
Some people have
the gift of foolishness,
others abandon.
More still sit up
floors above crowded bars
and try to think of synonyms for love.
Oh no, I know, they’re not—
They’re my-your-eyes.
It’s not that I don’t know
Just I can’t help seeing you look at me
as if you’ve just remembered what you promised
and what can really be.
