Memory Palaces

Wind waves to skinned suits, with wind’s arms waving and rocks wave back. A truth told in the waving wind, truth smacks of ship talk. Shipped out, truth doubts turn downtown, lusting proof, longing for scale, a suit, a tongue-dance, a simple crawl. The rocks talk of wind sound, slight and slow scratching of sand-sea-time. Scratches etched on glass, on corroded surfaces of sight, on sediment sandwiched in slow reach.