A child returning on her dad’s bike kept
staring at me until I got lost in the ascending
distance between us. It was another normal
walk home. What was that she searched on
my body. Did I startle her the way sidewalk
giving way to the wilderness startled me a
few moments ago. The shallow land covered
by shrubs bowed down by yesterday’s storm
made dark patterns near the roots, sacrificing
wonder of light. After she’s gone, her tiny
face lingers at the middle of my face. Such
superimposition. The only criteria to nurture
it while it evolves into something iridescent.
The ribbon of tenderness. A summer inside a
teardrop. The walk was meant to be the dream
of the walk. In dilemma should I tell you or
shouldn’t, I lifted my hands near the door bell…

A moment later, forced the key in the key-hole
the way a season is inside a consciousness. Pondering
which next desire is to meet a lonely ending. Pain…
as a matter of fact never evades the theory of object
permanence. Out of my loneliness no winged thing
flew out, but an un-outlined mist. It is nameless.