The Lake Has Swallowed The Whole Sky

Some dreams are like glass or a light beneath the surface of the water. A girl weeps in a garden. A woman turns her head and that is all. We wake up a hundred times and don't know where we are. Asleep at the wheel. Saved by the luck of angels. Everyone touching his lips to something larger, the watermark of some great sorrow. Everyone giving himself away. The way the rose gives up the stem and floats completely, without history. In the end every road leads to water. What is left of a garden is the dream, an alphabet of longing. The shadow of the girl. Perfume.