Wet Asphalt

For this rain is a cold reminder that I concern myself not with selfless concepts — such as God — ,

but the mind-body problem.

._.

It is fear that moves me and the stars, and creates points and meanings. Her sweater feels snug on me. I want this closeness forever.

Save us, lord, if you’re something up there.

._.

I fear our lives inconsequential.

I want the smells and even the pains

to last forever.

._.

I love this water that once wet the curls of Zeus, and Asterion’s too.

Air rough through the canopies: Beauty is a thing of hate.