Imagine this there is a hillside somewhere
where you chose to lay to make way
for my awesome tale my passing into
manhood my passage into the romantic
romantic notion this this hillside with stone
and pebblestone and flowers I’ll send
flowers I promise more like the truth
it stings this cut to the chase the raw
fact that you are only ash and unclaimed
so sad is the memory of perfect promise
and so to the tale I chose
a fool with dry tongue and eyes
that scan the nylon or polyester
or whatever the fuck for a prompt
words don’t come easily to me I would rather
let you guess that must be a tiresome game
but the skill comes naturally to the fool
until you require nothing of me more
than to dilate the obvious with no
and yes and no and no and yes
and maybe I’m not sure perhaps
this awesome tale where was I start
at the beginning there was this hillside
imagine it too hard suddenly
to take your body there for a reason
or maybe many reasons why I alone
remain so unique so precious
there is no risk really at all that
love will come easily to the dying tribe
after tribe and tales disappear easily
and so it is for me sweet one so
what can I do except imagine that
hillside a better place to be for you
because I am here

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