get me away
from all this god damn industry.
the streets named for trees
haven't got any.
in dreams, i awake
in unmowed lawns
the kiss of morning
beading on my cheeks.
the air is brisk, unbittered
unfiltered. i inhale,
i exhale; sighing's unheard of
lest the scenery becomes
too real, too free of grey
and corporate beiges.
i course through more greens
than i knew tired eyes could
detect and find
myself at the river's mouth.
she opens up
and i ask to be swallowed.
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