Seven, seventy-two plays on the radio. Her hair dances with the wind. We are fools rushing through the depth of night. We are wherever we want to be. In another life we’d scream, screwing the universe with our voices. But there’s nothing loud about noise. Volume is set by scene. Cheeks. Eyes. Lips. Air. Deep breath. Ahhh. Water. Water is everywhere. Life is quiet because it is too loud to hear.

I hold eyes witnessed to beauty of experience, not bound by it. I am beautiful. Beautiful moon in the fall sky, orbiting you. Learned from the moon you collapse to me. Fore without me, who are you?

Don’t mistake me, I am nothing too.

We amount to everything. It takes two.

Alive is more than living. Then we are fertile with life, creating children of time. Born and buried in our minds, kept only by memory.