Spamuel

You came in combat shorts controlling attention my American, Speaking poetry to me unintentionally in pidgin Pashto. I'm sure you've blown skulls wide open with half formed words and you frightened me with your fearless fire. You chased away the trouble that had settled heavy over my shoulders and down into every hair and pore and breath like desert dust. You were different. Your eyes shone with the promise of golden gates and red bridges to white sheets across blue gaps and hotels and museums and forests full of God and everything and everything seemed possible. I did not think you would leave me. And it returns from