Monday, September 05, 2005

My Name is Hello

Hanging with the badly-clad
I catch, like moonlight, looks
from doom-filled people.
Work-bound, burrowing muddy air
between room window and windshield,
swearing by a lost
pair of glasses, a digital watch,
at a pace to miss rainbows
but see forsythia, white dogwood.

You won’t crawl near enough
for fear of what else
will flower and flee
this one more lousy weekend.
I use the clouds
to see you in another body,
tree, or stone or someone
behaving like tree or stone.

Jump to a sudden thud
somewhere close
and lock the door –
you think to sleep
but hell, you want
some news, a messenger
or monster coming for you.

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