Grass medians between fast food chains and grocery store parking lots mean nothing

I was never the person I once thought I was.
within the shadow of a doubt
I was stone statue gray;
stubborn.

these zebra striped blanket fort daydreams
and the lips of a perfectly poised stranger
caught feverishly in the wind.

if dying in a wet trash littered gutter
i'd carve in the bark of love
if there ever existed a tree so big,
flow into a draining creek watershed.

every song you ever meant to me,

briar morning fog patch;
is a quilt that i'll never finish.

tangled in a mess
of my own making.