he took his glasses off with purpose
nothing to do with sight
dramatics to determine the path of this conversation
he didn’t want to see it my way
it wasn’t really a way, a forgetting
dropping a reality draped over monsters and myths
they come out at night
cascading down stair cases, whipping open doors, flowing out on streets, there will be no peace tonight
in the distance, chains are pounding pavement in rhythmic waves, people walking lockstep to survival
turning on you?
turning into them?
leaving this plane without a decent memory bouncing in the minds of those who remain, a stain, wore off, painted over, or cleaned up
he warned me, when those glasses hit the floor, that i was wrong
pushing cloud pillows aside, i happily disagree
we both know we’re right