Was the river flowing to hear my name

are the pebbles in the stream marked by time
is it sharp or soft
wet or dry
watery or grainy

swallow: perhaps my mind is the disc of the moon
the vitamin in the pantry, the reflection in the mirror
the hole where the lost key used to sit

smoke rings float with a bouncy swirl
into the night velvet black
plush blindness of sensing skin

maybe I forgot my lines
maybe my dreams are my fears
maybe you are my savior