haystack in a haystack outside the 7/11 we'd drink our brains blue. you, tall as a water tower & me with lavendering lips. in a dream my father dies & comes back to life to give me a bag of animal feed. we raise cows only the cows aren't cows they're ducks. the crops don't grow this year & we all learn to eat ideas. me saying, "salvation" & you saying "will you please." in the desert, you used to say, wild pigs would run in herds like kindergarten. i catelogue your textures so that when i close my eyes i can run my hands across the truth. hand-sewing pant ankles because i'm short. nothing to do with the rainforest at all, we used benches like match books. an eagle delivered me a bible one night & i opened it to find all the pages blank. i drew wildflowers. how "consume" means to separate parts which then cannot be reunited. inside the husk each corn kernel dreams yellow. dreams of becoming a star. how many times have you been let down gently? asking the wind to make a feather of me. you & i in a brief green rapture. god with a flashlight on our faces looking for what to leave & what to take. midnight reaching for a closet door & touching cool sand. you standing in the corner tall as a water tower. eyes wide open.