Drift
The fuel evaporated
never to be combusted
in the engine,
the ground filled
and covered in the salt
of the ocean,
killing the vines
that never would succumb
to poison,
and the sun emerged,
arousing the world
unevenly.
The local violent heat
must escape
to fill the deadly vacuum,
and drive the wind.
There are always the differences
that pulls canvas tight.
There is always the wind
that returns.
-Robert L. Jackson III
