ANY OTHER WAY.

it's the death rattle of summer,

the wind pushes your fingers to flight-

drawing lines in the sand,

driving up the long line,

that riddles up the palm of my hand.

I watch you have your way with it.

The only way,

you would have it.

It's the last breath of a cool evening,

the roof tops and sky lines,

grieving-

I watch you:

sit in the same dark room,

black with tar,

black with teeth,

blacker than underneath.

I watch you have your way with it.

long as the night,

long as the day,

that you wouldn't have any other way.