in those fields a tree

by mistersoto

before I knew it
I had crossed most of them
those fields
preoccupied with the chase
like a string of a balloon
forever out of reach
floating away
or a sentence
so far ahead
it’s tail chases it’s head
but collapsing with you
by the bordered hedge
projects like an old movie
and thumbing your arm
it’s veins
stretching out like a tree
perhaps reaching out from Pompes funebres
the one the fake sailor urinated against
I wondered
will you remain in there after were all gone?