It was all so innocent, you mistook
what passes for spring here as death
the breath of the gulls as a war cry
the play of the waves as a threat.
But your armor's just a puzzle for the rain to solve
your coat's a pennant for the wind
the fortress, your body's unsteady,
borrowed, dissolving in May.
It's raining here,
It's raining everywhere.
Surrender.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
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