The international bandit
I tell them.
I tell them the story
the story breathes you
and exhales icy winds
in a hot summer day. The first
steps were taken only
because you allowed it. The snake
everyone saw but not the thief we loved. I’ll tell
you the story. Feels the pages turn
like the wind blowing through your hair on a mare
through teeming meadows.
Now he rides on with a full book.