Pushed by troubled waters
on the periphery; dream
interrupted, you start
coloring your nails differently.
A white moon was not that
white any more. You grow
overnight gray, becoming
older by decades.
Gravel was going for a coup.
Stones had upturned
the river.
Brutus, were you impeccable?
I don\'t want to travel
back to dark memories,
of a raccoon drowning
a little poor thing.