5am shuffle silence floods the street
dream pathways lead to sand strewn beaches.
a blindfold woman ruffles perception,
west wind bickers sand grits teeth,

only notice that it’s me, searching for me.

You talk in riddles dangle Tarot from fingers
disappear in puffs of pretty pixels
I’m unimpeachable with disinterest,
this time I’m fledgling free.

I’m 5am woman wandering staccato landscapes
unable to find the question
still unreasonably searching
a filter for the final essence of me.