a breather.

outside this old
ghost cold warehouse
the sun stitches quilts
over the sidewalk
and the gold with glass
weeds that grow through

last night i had a dream
you pressed my neck
against the wall
i felt the concrete
on my shoulder blades

the ferocious seasons passed
for a lifetime
in your eyes

the work stays
the same though
and you're still the wind
running circles round my fingers
and my dirty jeans
are wearing thin at the knees