Take Me Home

The seagull will carry me back to the place

     whose name is shrouded in sweet toxicity,

looping with acrobatic finesse toward

          the town where shadows run amok.

He has tasted the salt of my tears in the amber

     rivulets of yore. He will shuck my sorrow

          into the pit that scathes and

scalds like the underbelly of hell.

          The music of my sobs intoxicates him in

ways that remind him of the sun's

               shortcomings. He will take me home,

for his back may be narrower than the past's

     footsteps, but his will is wider than the

          gap between subtlety and extravagance.