the thunder of an unannounced departure
in this planned world, though every ice is going.
i never knew i had so much to say
until that voice, like Chartres’ blue, was lost.
we all have secret, clever dreams of being
the only one who fangles an escape.
i share with her a dense tangle of causes:
times when further storying eludes.
Graywyvern sets this tray of microbrew
cute cupkins, down: but whither does it lead?