JC

You do not exist in my spiderweb.

A snap shot of a drawing I once traced.

The contours blending, fading, eroding;

I cannot follow the rigid face.

You grew a beard but quickly cut it.

Blue eyes shining in purple lights,

dancing with glowsticks and girls with green hair.

Aqua bubbles and torn tights.

 

This man-I-can, I can see

a fly that flapped its wings with vigor,

snapped the iron strands free,

flew into the sun becoming bigger.

 

Icarus and Dedalus cry.

So do I, so do I.