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May. 15th, 2004|09:12 pm |
All the culture trapped in a fingernail file
Laid out on display
One splatter painted lines down the road
Swerving around bugs, not caring to mimic
Liquid patterns demonstrated
Hanging dents upon jackets of flak
Riders on the storm, riders on the run
Lights steal from the waves of heat
Energy to alert prey positioned on talons
Of fifty-five-shattering speeds
Border-walking above the city
Smacking down from seven stories
Through the roof of customs
Drag the church to the middle
Where the bowl evens out
Buzzards throw darts
Snow looks down and spits
On identical sand
Cousins from bitter corners
With a petty bone to pick above the others
Scattered about the timeless floor
One day this Jeffery-shaped wound on my heart will be a scar. If I keep picking at it, it will never heal--isn't that what they say? I know, but the compulsion remains. It's over, we both know. I let him go, and he let me go. And yet still we collide like thunderclouds.
An eternity can be made from just-one-more-times. |
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