Condor In Gel Time

I’m using this truth to cover this lie: that your power is gliding around inside me: a condor in gel time. The far-seeing eyes and boaty wings are all our final loving in need. These water drops on my face are lit by the wishes I wish in the sun. Here is that moment I thought I’d lost, a little sugary thing that smells a bit roasted, a bit autumnal. A moment for only me that submits to your hands the way I draw them. Somewhere a volcano still doesn’t care. Somewhere a dinosaur bone is bulldozed. The heat of your face, your snake of a scarf, I pull you away from dinner. Hang on me while the world buckles, glittering grave.