Norlina

there is fever

that never leaves 

a mind

waking from

it rushes to

begins as the

dream of a

moment 

a paradise

of the last glimpse

of that tear

the taste/smell

of that...and

of a last word

about never

a jesus tee

a brown corduroy

belt loop

a shared pale

ale over free

community

television

squeezing

holding fast to

the vanishing

long washed 

image

from blurs it

re-forms as

the dresser

the clock on the wall

the sense they both

make

the day will roll

but the smell

the wet

the shaking hearts

remind like needles

now and then

becomes only unquenchable

thirsts

for sugars

in liquids and

alternative

and waking and

hugging your nothing