or the butterflies. I walk a short distance, bound to earth’s dirt, the distance between tonight and sunrise, roaming the traffic between planets in the absence of butterflies. Maybe their presence means less than the empty pockets of air they leave. I wonder, is it worth it to be conserved? The flight from one cage to the next is painful even for those of us with wings. I have smuggled one out on the back of my shirt, out of the glass building to flit and worry in the larger world of sunset behind rotting trees.
GiRGENTi 185