it's a feeling that always eludes me for a moment, there i've thought it like a butterfly before as a boy to go to a place with endless butterflies yellow ones in the trees ones in a box in my home nocturnal moths, which against the headlamp burn white in that night then move with you to sunset ridge at first it was day then later day then the sun was golden and then it was crested by the peaks above the other mountains the sky is pink then gold then blue but here the sky comes darker but to see the sun shining on the next peak the tallest tree drinking that last sip of sun just the very tip of it is gold and one could be illuded to walk through the woods in early fall to see a crest of leaves yellow in the sky and think it sun- no! it's just change it's just the ever changing mountain the ever changing trees each leaf born and dead though the tree still alive each flower born and dead though the earth, the ground, still growing, nurtured with no trace left behind but just that pollen in the wind- strange strategies, trees have to mate and know one another, to know themselves a text message notification dings i need a better place to think, to walk- i do love city streets i do love being oh so close to friends- but, if i were to act upon a dream of young i would find a small town one whose buildings were decrepit ones whose main street empty now- perhaps just a market and a coffee shop for nearby towns am i an imperialist to want to plant a flag? am i a coward to try to find happiness there and not here? in the city with balls and dance and music and beer? but to fantasize about a town a block a coldisac- i have a house here you have a house there when i was a kid i dreamed of tubes beneath the cities tubes beneath my house like those of hamsters and i'd crawl through them to you or i'd crawl through them to some central place to me and you i didn't factor in sleep then and when i did i began to wish that i could dream with you but we don't talk about that now though it, hurt us all to lose it there's a thing that glimmers like a memory though may just be a dream so how could i stand upon the mount and say: this is what i mean or meant but to watch the sea change from the stars, the plane to look above the clouds on the plane the listen to piano on the plane to read illuminated by that light and everyone is sleeping now but you but i watching the movie about the boy who found his father playing guitar returning to his grandmother and saying: see, this our song i know it too i just needed a minute to get there she shall sing again and i shall cry so let us go then, you and i for hell will not consume us for perhaps there is more fear to speak in a land in which we will live tomorrow and see each other again but i will try to be strong and though i may not succeed that is all that i can say