You Could

Two people on a benchYou could call my name, you could
whisper it from the crest of a nearby mountain
or a rock hard rock call along with the breeze
or in broken infirmaty spell each letter carefully

You could speak my thoughts, you could
hold them up for gentle scrutiny in a desert valley
or a cloud soft cloud scream on a tornado wind
or withhold the spaces within a crooked crevice

You could analyze me, you could
envelop me within the cusp of a lurid knapsack
or an icy cold ice croak of an old zephyr
or tell an old man the tale of an inner peace

The question is: would I listen
would I hear, would I read, would I
feel, would I turn the crystal ball of my
own future and past around and see
the insides and the outsides
You could, but would I

You Could

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