i was thinking all day about this. my mind spinning your face around like a washing machine, the spots never disappearing, but getting clearer all the time. and i dried you out, still spinning, spots still showing, the line getting deeper in the sand. i was thinking all day about this, but it didn't take it all away. and as we sat together my resolve crumbled between our fingers and the deep line in the sand became my cradle. and later, when our feet got soaked up by a thousand tiny sponges, the tree waiting to cover us in the dark. and you said he didn't know you, so i gave his words back to the night air and watched them float up through the tree and into the sky. i was thinking all day about this, and i concluded that i think too much. and today it's just been hanging. and hanging. and hanging. and if you ever spin again, it will only be in the grass that we lay on and in.