Sean's tree house.
We said we were going to stay up all night studying but instead we drank and smoked and wrote poetry then promptly passed out.
The dreams are always shadowy now,
and cunning.
Just last night
I dreamt of the cabin on the shrapnel hillside
and pills that were dimes and pins
but still made my breath short and my body purple-tinged, shivery
and then I was watching Collin, who stood across the room,
as some fire devoured the cabin with us
in it.
I saw Dan yesterday and he said that phrase again which rung through my head like an alarm
"It's neither here nor there now."
I want to walk in the step-rhythm of whatever it takes
to move and continue to move
so nothing is ever here nor there
but for now it's still
scattered all about me.
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