Interpret this division
between you and I
as a toast to
long lost tradition
Raise your glass
to the gods of time

Cheers to the lone farmer
in fields of salvation
on his hands and knees
sifting dirt through
stiff little fingers
that plant seeds
for next of kin’s
appetite for surviving
off the land

Cheers to the woman
in red lipstick impressions
outside the window
raising her hemline
up a toned leg
fully exposing
the heart of all that is sacred
to the sight of fallen men
throughout history

Pass the bottle
of summertime dreams
sip away any apprehension
toward breaking mirrors
no longer holding your
reflection of the past.