Gargling in the late morning
I remember not to imitate jellyfolk.
I spit, make sound.
No, it wasn't a vision,
it was quite real.
You and your barefooted visions.
I wipe my tears away.
People think I'm a fool
because devils and angels
like my company.
I am a child sitting in grassland
that sings of still Heaven.
When my mood drops
I take water through my lips
and smoke through my teeth.
The landscape boils, air
becomes semi-solid
turning us into ghosts.
All ghosts cry.
I cry without bitterness
or reproach.
I turn toward your kiss
on my face.
