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Written: March 14, 2021

Destiny manifest is relative

Though the direction is bound homeward

True West

Away from the sunrise

Towards the shore

The place with lavender lemonade,

Easy exhalations,

Sentences made into natural couplets,

Intertwined like fingers.

In the moonlight,

Perception of depth differs.

The stars feel as close as the constellations,

Of moles on your back.

The Golden Gate Bridge is made of matchsticks.

Hwy 101 is the path

From your garden to the chicken coop

And

“I love you”

Is a sentence that stretches infinitely.