I lit four years on fire and blew the ashes into the face of the sky
a funnel cloud formed that shot the air straight through me so I fell backwards on to the wet grass
the ashes had slid back down and filled my lungs until I coughed and coughed and finally forgot everything
when I woke up the years were back on my chest all written out, just like before, in gold letters in every language
from the beginning I noticed my own handwriting and watched it start out
ugly, simple, and interesting
and then improve so fast,
dip,
improve,
and dip until it faded
into what looked like just smears
of ash and melted gold
so I gave up on burning it
and put it back in my pocket.