storytelling
in a concrete pool
warmed by the moon
and given nighttime
the impression of jungle
a photo from india, told by your description
your man looking one way
the taj mahal mirrored before
being broken by the stroke of boat
first date you paint for me
phosphorescence under the red sea
and another photo, this one of tazmania
your nuclear family, how far away
the song repeats, they're all dead now
esta fin de semana
now i see how i could leave this place
buenos, buenas, kicking dust up
all the way home