On sunny days
 	the rivers teem
 	with sacred colours;
 	immaturity;
	flambouyant vanity.
Shallow, ignoring
 	peril and treachery:
		I arrive before leaving;
		digest before eating;
		scream without
raising my voice.
 	Two human pulses;
 	their ribs a xylophone,
 	the tempo bleeding
 	into the noon rains.
The lakes mature,
 	beyond the water's edge; my
 	pencil wanders, scattering thoughts
	across the page. Alone,
I dream aloud in black
 	and white.