One in a thousand lovers
Will be no lover at all
They'll pronounce your thoughts in tongues
Every syllable turning the tides
Into indirect streams of consciousness
Over, across the plains
An amiable second confidante
Moving asunder the vast land mass
Grading your intake
Eyes on your eyes
Brave a conflict
An accord
Arresting the aura of blistered disdain
Into choler
A badge into the darkness
I hold it in my hand
To show those whom I meet twice
The extent of my jurisdiction
I hope they never listen
I have no bit prepared
For a third
Grab ahold of the salt shaker
At a small airport restaurant
A few podcasts down from the clouds
I hope they find a home
On the riverbends that stretch through your brain
