Tuesday, June 23, 2009

ugly interstate

Bus hums compete with residues of an argument-
modified words translate into nonsense,
boxing zingers fly from the arena, into the air and draw a crowd
the unbound phrase was cannoned
like the destruction of a fort
the walking away
the driving away
the spilling of a hamper;
contents rain down the stair.
my forehead bled
and bumps and bruises
permeated the moment.

I foresee a lull of conversation
a teeter-totter of allies
guerrilla warfare of phone calls.

I needed a blanket between
the ant hills on the unmowed grass
and the art of the skin on my back.
I needed a formative coverlet between
the few stars peaking through the blue
and my tampered lungs.

I no longer require these protections and
will see to the pursuit of future needs
through different tunnels and doors.

All was quiet behind my voice on a strangers' stoop...
my constricted throat failed to switch gears into safety
but I knew the walls
the walls which harbored the unforeseen blood
would laugh at me
or frown at me
tower down or encapsulate me
if I'd sat down for a breath.

even my eyelashes wilted there-
like the sprite of orange roses
in my kitchen which I'd loved
then killed by mistake.

every chair rattles in this vacant piece.
A permanent mark declaring,
"do NOT open this bay"
initiates my imagination to run, just as I do...

left and right, right then left,
north past tortillas and tapas,
jasmine rice and tortellini.

South past mesh shirts and leather pants
sleeveless t's, vests and hats.
East into the waves
West over the picket fences and caravans.
back to where it began,
in the hot lot by my address.
possibility more entwined in grey laces
or in the strength of patellas.

Maybe that Bay is filled with bees,
balloons and bubbles for parties?

I sympathize with the cars and trucks
on my east-bound parallel.
but it gets prettier now,
one tree at a time.

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