Autistic

Look up
The trees fly by,
Fire above the ocean,
Cardboards moving around.

Those inciting lips;
Words they call them,
Beyond the valleys
Below the trenches.

Who are they?
They don't
Share the oasis---
Drinking, and drowning.

Gazing at the dying sun
Waiting for the eloquent beauty;
The burning candle
Floating, in the meandering ravine.

The curve in the lips
Clouded in daylight,
The leprous saints
Submitting to destiny.

The maladroit gestures,
Indecisive feelings,
The fallen leaves of autumn
Blown away by the wind!