when you say don't think of me well i do

i think of you

i say there's no well 

you think well

we're all walking wells 

of metaphor and thirsty too

taking on the planet of takers

giving away what once we wanted

more than we know we knew

having come through 

some other sky

reassembled 

we lifted a blanket of moss and lay under

there was also another evening 

within the evening

a pale cloud of breath 

floated above the moss

this

what we wish 

is like that