WEBVTT

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Another love poem.

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"Springtime in Rutledge".

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I don't know from pinwheels.

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I am far from boots and their
fabulous parade, from tubas.

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What happened to me was
god in small things,

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and flying on the ground
it's funny to be here,

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next to the shadow
you left behind.

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The river keeps time with
nothing nowadays, just

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little blasts of air.

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And when I say river,
I don't mean river.

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Do you see the ribbon
inside space and time.

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It's a kind of river,
a kind of nothing

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cascading above our hearts.

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And that's how it is, tiny
lights at a county fair

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sending you a telegram.

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