The Same Is Not the Same David Thunder Bortolotto Over the phone with no Distinct way of knowing over what Massive space between She tells me how much colder in Boston Everything right now would be and Remembers red nights when her father Would come at her and call her away and She’d have to use her deep prison voice To get him to stop and get off her. But those days are over and so are the Ones I believe sometimes when I’m dead Eyed and red throated yelling high and Loud, in the first dream of tomorrow I have The same is not the same and what I am Over how massive and great is known to Me.
18
