when they led me to
the room of no colors.
crisp white sheets
stamped carelessly
in black

and left me there
at the blunt end of a long corridor;
when I found you like that
could you feel me?
could you feel my arms
reach up
like pulling curtains from the walls,
they tried to climb the cable
fast, they understood.
I didn't.

I dressed you in
your new clothes,
stretching tags until
the plastic snapped -
the ones we charged in
Springtown, you remember,
the night before.

I have stories to tell

and love songs.
I'll sing loud with no tears
until my throat chokes dry
like swallowed
pepperweed.

I'll clip my nails and
play my gibson,
stay and listen -
for just this Sunday morning.

I have stories to tell and
pleas to make, can you
see them in me,
can you hear?
still twenty-five
and dressed in khaki.