Distance – Page 16

sitting on the train
I look across the aisle and
see you as you were
–
hot city streets-
a stranger wears
my memories

a smiling buddha
round belly worn smooth by
hands of thousands
–
pagoda doors-
stone steps cut
in the hillside

dark attic corners
within an old cardboard box
dusty memories
–
summer boardwalk-
sepia toned
memories

a rain-soaked highway-
the skeletal hand of fate
cuts another thread
–
trapped in amber-
mountains are as
grains of sand

a table for one-
looking for some privacy
and a little peace
–
bryant park-
a blanket
dewy grass

a sidewalk bistro-
over my coffee judging
everyone I see
–
al fresco-
sipping coffee
headphones on

one hapless squirrel-
suddenly half the city
plunged into darkness
–
pulling weeds-
squirrels drop acorns
on my head

this fool’s mask I wear
hides the truth so no one sees
my deformity
–
moonless-
a dim glow
in the attic

well gone past midnight
swimming in the rain, lightning
off in the distance
–
scattered clothes-
midnight at the
swimming hole

a copse of willows-
long verdant tresses brunette
in the evening light
–
prolonged drought-
green pastures
turn to dust