Dust storm. And I missed it. The bullet shot...went through my skin and twisted. All the way -in-to my/the bone. Buried/////Resurfacing years later through your inquiries. Why yes- I've always ached this way Just as an archaeological dig takes years- not days. To discover all the hidden= once living/ now dead species. By the time you reached me..... even my bones had begun to di si nt egr ate. Oh the shame. The dust. The wind. The big bang-it took my body to SEE the errors of my (way.) With wounds left open and acts beyond middle school charades.
You like to think it and imagine all the ways I have gone about this:
life the wrong way.
He's singing songs about a stale heart and a fallen braid.
I felt the shift the first day the earth quaked. Of all my uncertainties: certainly there is a crowded line wrapped around the parking lot of my emotions.
And how does one become a ghost in the first place? There was the ugliest trail leading me to all of my answers. I stalled and just stared at the ground....looking up is not looking" up" these day.