Sometimes you start
with a blank page other times
there’s no choice

the world before
you were born

prefers a simple table
salt, pepper, a clean glass
still water and when
voices rise

walks out to the balcony
thinks about the cigarettes we
smoked and flicked without though

we would never imagine
doing that today with all the

in the air and settling
down into the roots of your hair

you hardly need the stones
as you walk into the lake