beautiful.
And in her
search to find
solid ground,
she tastes the February Snow
and snaps a picture
to save a moment
or two.
We walk the dim-lit streets,
and travel back through histories
we tried to
forget.
I taste the February sun
and all the flowers
that won't bloom
until spring.
She hands me a snapshot,
and though it is not
my memory,
I see myself standing
in a field of flowers.
Hands delicately grasping
a solid red scarf,
silhouetted against
the setting sun.
And I whispered "Where did you get this?"
"I found it in my old suitcase. It's me in Mississippi last year."
she says "The sun was shining that day, I remember my father holding the camera up just right."
"I love it. We should take photographs as good as this."
"Yes, we should. There's a hill I know of."
She stands
like mannequin
silhouettes.
On a hill
in the middle of
Somewhere.
It's mine, I take
it back. Where did you
get that,
that's me.
You found that from
some old collection,
warped, aged memories,
I don't understand.
I've never seen it before.
That's me, that's me.
I twisted the umbrella
in my right hand,
handle circling,
redoubling,
circling again.
Navigate this appendage.
Protect my skin
from raw
sunshine
elements.
From raw
rain storm
elements.
From thunderclaps
and light storms.
That picture, it's
me where did you find...
It is just like
you to find me
in your picture.
Red Scarf,
and a Clementine
in a white
sundress,
pockets full of
Citrus.
Eyes behold
our silly little
wandering blue-green
efforts to
carve out a
brilliant, memorable, respectable
place
for ourselves.
On the hill.
We were perfect,
on a hill.
You wore a yellow scarf
on the hill.
http://vampire-zombie.deviantart.com/art/I-fell-in-love-with-an-alien-106389551
