I should have maintained my lane,

my property line,

my topography.

, I should have been more careful where I started, and how.

It always about me, and its the last time I’ll change; or disembark.

without looking or wanting to look, ahead or behind,

without gathering at the capital, or meeting at the coast, in secret.

I am light,

bending in on myself,

racing myself,

perpetual streaks of blue,

coastal streaks,

losing streaks,,,,

Falling forward and then dissipating into mist.

not really considering anything, except for how the soft corduroy feels on my legs.

on the island,

across my face,

the contested city, that took so long to reach,

staring into the screen, into the sun?

and all of Parma seemingly staring back at me,,,

with our sunglasses on, and the look on their face,

staring back at me

so violent .

so blue.