walking with you
in those woods
in those woods
she was so careful
about what she left
about what she left
begging
to be swept away
to be swept away
and slept for an hour
on the butt of his gun
on the butt of his gun
it was my friend
who did me in
down to the water,
as we all watched
as we all watched
we never knew if the city was real
or just one last dream
before drowning
or just one last dream
before drowning
whispers
as if all the boats
had sunk in the bay
every single light
another memory
another memory
he could never forget anything
not even his own name
not even his own name
when he returned
there was nothing but mist
on the bridge
there was nothing but mist
on the bridge
he didn’t believe
waiting to burst into flame
that I can see
the days we spent
in that place
in that place
find his way back
no one he told
ever believed him
ever believed him
trying to reach
the horizon
by Andrew Ochs