Between all the nights
that moan
You throw away
and you're thrown
There's no such thing
as home
But where you choose
to roam.
Between all the seeds
outgrown,
Between all our faces
unknown,
Between all the nights
that moan,
You once knew a place
called home.
Now
there's nothing
to do
but go
straight on
till morning,
when the dawn breaks
and the landscape
suddenly
begins
forming.
Long ago
I watched you
jump over
sidewalk puddles,
that was before I
dropped you
between all of our
riddles.
I once left you,
but you were already gone;
I once came back to you,
but you were already gone.
Between all the nights
that moan,
you throw away
and your thrown,
so many seeds
outgrown,
there was
a shadow
between puddles
and riddles
that we once called home.
L.A. 1/27/07
