All I want is that collapsed horizon,
all daydreams layered atop one
another; translucent, aglow
with a new shape, a
new pattern, a
new story.
We don't need much.
If we can't afford to stay warm,
let's live where we don't
have to.
If we can't get out into nature,
let's live where we can
invite nature in.
If we can't grow our own food,
let's live where we can
at least grow a few
tomatoes and
herbs.
Let us have the happiness
that dogs bring.
We don't need a bigger canvas.
We need brighter colors.
We need sunshine and fresh air
and the sounds of birds and
frogs and tree branches
in the wind.
We need a little place in the
country. We need to get
out of the city, away
from the devilry.
We need a quiet place.
We need our own place.
We need a reasonable
horizon, a reachable dream.
Either way, I walk alongside him,
at his pace, in the direction
he chooses.
That was the promise I made.
That is the promise I keep.
August 5, 2026
