to wake to winter in the coming out of the time of year
when they release
but to be still in the other night.
some drown in movies.
some prefer the unfinished
a mystical ecology
where one dies in a camp,
or rolls out with the dice
on the sidewalk among boys with
and plays dead in white crinoline.
what if paradise was only lifting the veil to flirt.
no one perfect, but perfection inserts
us so, Pascal