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the braid from your hair rested on your shoulder shown in the green light from the panel of instruments the hairs looked like threads woven and were perfect shaking when you spoke and the voice near perfect too the darkness killed all doubt not more than an hour and mostly simple words straightened out the corners and for a short time filled the seams so no light could break in without all the lows there's no way to describe contrast the last of night of jackson and canada if we didn't lie how could you believe the closeness in between the dawn and blue half-light so little in between re-enactors reconsider please the chance to someday let you down good as any that you've heard of at night on your a.m. radio when the car doors closed eyes were all too tired there's nothing left to see there's nothing in between