Sitting On the Grass

(c) 2004 Aire Celeste Norell

your eyelids are sticking closed  in the sun blinding  you can feel that you are in a desert  but the wind blows cool sometimes   so you sit alone  listening to pointless conversations  wondering where he is   the wind blows  mixing the crumpled leaves with the crumpled paper   if you let your eyes close you will fall asleep  and you could be anywhere or you could stroll over to watch yourself  sleeping in the middle of a crowd  burning in the sun strong  not caring where he is