Tattoo your words on the skin on my city, so that all around me I see your voice hanging in midair like sunlight caught on the wind. I want an annotated earth, not pristine and untouched, but one whose grasses have been gratefully given up for trampling. I want to see proof that perhaps once you have known laughter streaming through your fields, that people have lived in these streets, that music has danced under these stars.


