from this drop of water,
I hope to quench my thirst,
to keep some for the road,
to kiss my desires à bientôt.
this museum is a walking one,
it’s a home with no sofa,
it’s a library with no shelves,
it’s a golfer without a stick.
I watched you hastily leave
because of the rain and cold,
the folklore was one never told,
I watched you hastily leave.
the coin you lost was what I flipped,
it brought me head, curled my toes,
my only regret was waiting this whole time,
you were the tunnel light that didn’t make it to the end.