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And when I said I want to see the expanse of the universe, I meant that I can feel the pages of history turning around me, evoking visions
Of the way trees looked like broccoli on those long bus rides, the way your bedroom smelled like home that night, and The paint chipping on the wall next to your bed, the way The white peeled with the passing of every year. A stream of tears and a peal of laughter, through The First of everything and what's left of the Imagination, The prophet wrote, Blessed be my rock and Exalted be my god As I peered from behind bibles and magazines, there you were all along, The ballad and the bullet. |