out lines

it was so dark that
we had to see by touching
the rough wood-planked floor

***

I see us in lines;
you tend to run straight and I
run like watered paint

or stay golden

given our exits
at times we prefer to stay,
make it to the roof

***

high light and low burns;
if I should name it golden
you'd reconsider

night hue

find me a city
that glows brighter blue in the
wildest, twinkling way