It's all over, she said.
You must login to vote
We are speeding away
Like that line.
You know - the one that
vanishes into the middle of the picture.
Then I remember art class
and her hair, laying across my arm,
all damp with summer.
Our fingers pink from rubbing cheeks
into the faces of crayon girls
and the chalky smell of classrooms
and I know - I just want to
Not the poem which we have read, but that to which we return, with the greatest pleasure, possesses the power and claims the name of essential poetry.