put on these sunglasses with me,
each of us gets a lens, and look at the sky:
yellow streaked with gray
when the whole world is half-right at best and hazy,
mist across my windshield and swarms of birds
like flies against the bloated storm clouds
when I feel stuck like April grass on a highway median
I can see the trees through the asphalt
but I can't get my hands on them
hold your breath with me, that feeling
of a bubbly underwater exhale just before you breach the surface
only you never breach it
you stay suspended, glasslike and eternal
wondering if you'll ever get to breathe out again,
I mean really breathe out
you can see the fresh air through your swimming goggles
but you can't get your hands on it
