you're coughing by the window
and i'm putting you in these photos
oh how much my friends
they would love you.
i know you're probably leaving
long before you meet them
and funny,
that is ok too.
as long as we have this morning,
whatever you break won't mourn a thing.
an autumn in atlanta,
a snow filled park in brooklyn,
coffee sunrise in the rockies,
and sequoias in the dew
you'd cry from all this beauty,
and 'cause your friends are so far from you,
and a little more from joy
as i lean against you.
and if we never see these things
can we at least make it to
vondel park this spring
and i'll be drunk on burbon
at tien voor half een
stumbling through the sun
with your hand in mine
pull me to a shady tree let
me pass out on you
dreaming of next spring
sequoias and the dew.