(Written July 29, 2007, at age 20.)
Beneath skies so blue and clouds so white,
Trees so green stand and fight
Against the probing eye of passers by.
The winds sigh, and the grasses cry.
Mangled limbs reflected in windows;
Warm hands and curled toes;
Eyes as wide as the skies above;
Looking for lovers, or looking for love?
Roads stretch their unwieldy blacks.
Hands crawl up shapely backs,
Skin meets skin in careless caress,
Reasons blur as bodies press.
Infinite broccoli heads of trees stand guard
Over tombs silent, grey and hard.
Yellow flowers try to make them smile
In blooming grace and brightly style.
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