Love pulls a black suitcase.

She went wayward,
leaving a trail
of train tracks,
cut power lines
and aerial jet streams

She spoke,
as the train doors closed
"i'm not this god"
as she went away
and submitted herself
to something as bigger
then the ocean,

what once was
a day dreaming god
is now a cubicled Spector
for other spectators to see
clocking those numbers
with hands that
were meant to inspire
and hands that were
meant to grace the chest
of me.