Yellow

I’m walking the fine yellow line
step by step
I’m breaking rhythm
where others have walked before
where the dogs rot
Beyond freshly painted fences

The stench is in the air
on the fine yellow line
but I’m walking
like I’ve never walked before
one foot in front of the other
looking down
looking up
smiling at you
Screaming inside
on the yellow line

Waiting for the roots of the trees
To catch me by the ankles
and carry me
under

the yellow line.

The last poem...

...nobody will believe in

Reality is coincidence of minds
In folds of time
In the sands of space

We meet
And everything stays the same
Nothing changes
In a changing world

Because we are synchronized in that which makes us existent,
We meet each other
In quantum coincidences.