Turning a corner to a wide open road,
where winter skies don’t match
the green trees and a prettier feeling.
Did that happen? Did it really happen?
A legitimate fear of waking up
from this potential life.
Alone on a crowded boulevard,
the souls synchronize.
Half asleep
or half awake,
I’m struggling to tell.
Yawns occur
at rates unknown,
contagious like a spell.
Drawings shape
on your front page,
it’s admiring to watch.
Waiting for
the day that comes
we just sit down to talk.
Empty fields left open
to run through
match the
parallelled skies.
At the end,
a body to splash to.
Dive in
and capsize.
And jump
to land on top
of the motioning
cloud.
Fall
with the rain
and spread thin
across the ground.
We need help
in the most dire of places
as the most familiar faces
disappear in plain sight.
Take me to where
the fog reigns supreme
and the forest silhouettes
are endless.
To a place where breaths
are admired with the likes of
love and peace, found deep beneath
the well I wish to fall into.
Sights and sounds
take you around
to a wondrous encampment
of spinning lights and fireflies.
Ticket stubs
and ringing bells.
Balls to throw
at jugs of milk
often end
in empty-handed promises
or thinking there’s still hope.
“Next time,” you believe.
But one day you’ll find
a way out
of the house of mirrors
and be on your way home.
No matter which way
you phrase it: I stumbled.
With only one foot in
to begin with.
White car, black stocking.
A million of those
and only one of you.
A city scan
finds no results.
A return to the scene.
My heart jumps
up and down.
Unparalleled.
Hopeful.
For every million drops,
there is one catch.
And we clutch it tight,
just like the first time.
The leaves fall intermittently
as the wind brushes by.
And we are reminded
of the greater nature.
I’ve come here to tell you
of this place I found,
hidden behind the bookcase door,
but you don’t read much.
Why would I tell?
Why should you know?
The answer to the questions
you’ll never ask will simply be…
Wandering nights
and walls for balance beams.
Spinning tops
and flash light dreams.
Wasted moves for improvidence.
The impasse awaits.
A questioned materiality
is often forgiven by falling leaves.
Reds and yellows.
Orange and green
Grass blanketed by the
prettiest month you ever did see.
Vows of desires
hindered by a self-indulgent
exploit. All that you ever wanted.
Undeveloped days spent under the sheets.
Small words.
Strange window.
Lovely laughs.
Headlights.
Smile, it’s pretty today.
Hello,
goodnight.
Twirling fingers.
Pretty eyes.
Promising.
Devour.
Rushed.
Unrealized.
Suitcases unpacked.
Danger.
Lustrous.
Need time.
Strength
in an unusual form.
Against rushed certainty.
But thoughts follow
the film score playlist.
Don’t beg for more.
Not now. Not ready.
Just wondrous.
An elevator of sorts
lifts and drops the spirits
on a soggy day.
The up and down motion
repeated throughout the
minutes is tiring.
But I can almost see
the lights ahead, colorful
and streaming from trees.
And an escape back into wonderland
is reachable.
But an unpacked journey is seemingly dangerous.