Between white cherry blossom trees and dead ones, we're careful acquaintances. Knee-deep emotionally attached. ( Your tiny hands, your crazy kitten smile).
We open up buttons that contain and restrict our passions. They make our blood-shot eyes explode. (Artists high on color. No fumar en esta area). We do not make eye contact with the lonely even though we're all afflicted with the same disease. (He has the answer. What was the question?). Blood bleeds out of cracks in sidewalks. She runs through the fields, her dress as green as June grass.