just by being a ghost
that no story is resolved
the whispers echo in diminishing circles
you can't make them what they're saying
but you know what they mean
and in all the gossip that sounds in the branches
you confront your own story
related in the history of someone else
and see him staring at you
from the glint of light on some flesh and blood
shoulder that is lifted in his midst
as you both head toward a respite
before continuing this compulsion
he stuck in this earth with an occasional protrusion
of the tongue at the unsuspecting photographer
while you go looking for new skin in inhibit...
Content (c)2008-2012 Philip Milito.
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