i am one with the grass and my
eyes are fixed on the shifting clouds.
after a while i can no longer differentiate
the cotton candy whites from the
baby-blue backdrop, all floating above me
like phantom memories of your face. if i looked away to the trees, the earth--anything, really
i could refresh myself and regain the focus
to see properly upon returning my eyes skyward,
but i am listless.
i stare at the softened periwinkle-and-alabaster
rorschach spots blurring into each other like
blended oil pastels in the heavens, and i exhale
into the silence of the mosquito-specked air.
i waste far too much time trying not to think of you.