perrier

swallowing a novel of poems daily
but today it was yours
tell me your story of loves happened and passed
visitors always visiting
no where to live
to call home
maybe a coffee shop
somewhere on the skirt tails of our dreams
somewhere in the valley all late night after band practice
all early in a brooklyn green room

my home seems to have many faces
a hand in palo verde
this face in a canopy morning

did i ever really want that pond?
or was i just thirsty for still water?