J

I saw you there, trapped in the mob of cluttered mothers, pigeons in the corridors

Amongst the weeds and childrens and the hallowed bark of mutts and gentrifyers.

Somehow you had managed to make your way out of that

wayward and unforgiving labyrinth I had locked you up in

Like my Ariadne had betrayed the logic of the Marble and Asphalt;

And you were here in breath, watching the potted flowers bloom in the same

pinks and hues of red that tinted your breath and tainted your hair and head.

Golden and Crimson threads knotted around you, and I followed you amongst the stacks

of Emerald bottles overflowing with wine, and the drying bear furs, and the

Holly bundles mixed with the baby's breath and the lemon slices, and I can vaguely

see the outline of the whiskey barrel exploding in portulaca flowers.

Where are we going? Why are you crying? An ocean like the the Atlantic?