forward

I want to write a book with you,
so we could have our way with words
and find new ways to keep the rules
improved by our exceptions, blurred
by lines so straight and clear, we'd draw
- then back, erase, and fill in black
with sketching chalk, and charcoal,
all chiaroscuro - bright as fact
and dark as fiction, intertwined
we'd work and weave our way
straight through.

'til story leaves the book behind
we've always had one plot
in mind