Fragment (4): Olga (1920-2014)

Please, don't go traveling anymore with me: you recede like Pescarese seas & the cramped home shared with a rose-eyed sister, who's all fear and grief, too I find a too common shared desk, e.g., faintly scratched (while from my perspective you've haunted more than that), or the usual affrighted old woman face that's engraved in pillows, is one too many-- And don't, because I do deserve it, continue calling me and make fall on a son's own graying head with all his books, a too common shared, a much too canonical goodbye Please, let me who am always lost without them just go on looking for you in dreams, instead