Evading their ongoing tragedies
Forty summers spent down in the dirt
Withstanding the weight of apocalypse
Emerging; though slightly less overt
Blast furnace of the afternoon sun
Dali walking barefoot on Tampa’s shores
Pale riders within unabsorbed light
Embracing purity through perception’s doors
The paint of our secret love notes
But can only be read through the keyhole
Shying away from all public renditions
Her passionate words left imprinted on my soul
Captain Q 