a poem a day for a year #262

people tell me things
they don't want to tell me
secrets and hidden mysteries
truthful open wounds
the paths to their shiny bits
the combination to the lock
they have around their neck
the tiniest sliver of a dream
knocking at the door
I can see it in the moments before they
open their mouths
it settles across faces like a prayer
I tilt my head and let them feel good
if only for a moment
a sudden squall
takes it all away
and there's no harm
in what the wind knows
there's no harm in charged particles and gasses
mixing with us
somewhere there's a hot air balloon
fueled by your
people wave
at everything
from high up