Tuesday, January 20, 2009


Window to your left.

Tiny click of overhead fan

Quiet spread across the neighborhood

You think back when the days emptied

When she simply appeared

Not a soiree, a fantasy, a blank wish

You knew something caught right off

Your mind drifts to her breathing

Your arm rests on her shoulder

that feels larger than your own

A female great horned owl hoots

from the nearby park

Silence and you remember the first dance

At the Pink Hotel, following step

Beyond the mystery of folly, messes, not funny

Days, good and bad memories that fade

And disappear at 3:07 A:M when

A tiny light no one but you can see appears and someone says

This is it and for a second you don’t know

It’s you talking to yourself

It says yes she is the prize the whole damn thing

Beyond wars, endless slaughters, souls gone awry

Crooked politicians, dropping APRs, failed dreams

Impossible circumstances and just plain wisdom

And you lie there hand on her shoulder

Listening to the awe holding

The two of you so still


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home