Orbital Daydream

Your hair decorates the jet-steam high
Mountains cap my thoughts below
The earth is apple and you the sky
And I can’t read the things you know

We are stick figures made of paint
Under candle dripping wax moon waning
Our footsteps pace the snow to taint
Parade and melt the days remaining

You heed the lights and traffic signs
Divide the angles in amber rust
I ride the ghost between the lines
Failing tangent tracks to trust

We track the wind that winds the clocks
Tack and trail and hoist the sails
That drive us further from the docks
Where tethers flap an empty jail

Your hair decorates the gulf-stream green
Chasms yawn my thoughts deny
That earth is apple and you the dream
And I can’t breathe this studded sky

February 2009

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