monroe ave, isn’t it?

pace the sidewalk but

don’t fear this place you never stood in the ribcage of: isn’t the

sky stretching into each direction as though your eyes were the sun? isn’t the

uneven ground built of stones and sand and water just for you? Isn’t the

car with the halogen lights lighting the street just

for you who covets the color? Isn’t the

stranger passing you assuring you of the privacy of your own thoughts,

since you haven’t an idea what his are from those empty  eyes and affect? isn’t the

dream you had last night of feeding pumas evidence

you are aggressive even though treble every time it is your move to talk? Isn’t the

rain coming down onto the leaves of trees just what you needed

to remember the peace of all the summer nights it rained on top of a tent? Isn’t the

sound of traffic your answer from God when you said am I alone then

well, am I? isn’t the

wrist of your raincoat the softest thing

your fingers have ever encountered? isn’t the

person you have been arguing with still as wrong as she was an hour ago,

when you last thought of her stance? isn’t the

plan the same, finessed a little every time you resolve to execute it, building

your way from the sidewalk walk-praying and getting your bearings?  isn’t the

day one which you must stop planning so Creation can surprise you, as you never put that

t the year obsession fading yet, the one

like caffeine or courtroom adrenaline, because with it you are still sought forever? isn’t  it

good to drive, your fingers tap along the shadow spine of the lyrics nuzzling the past,

recalling a good day, when you were half in the water,

drunk and warm with the sun on your body at Second Dam in Ithaca NY? isn’t it

more important to be gentle to breakable people than to win by violent motive? isn’t it

 your destination to Be Sometime in Heaven, the day you atone for all you’ve done wrong,

and all you haven’t, even though the loneliness of your lost

is your only intuitive reference point and you must rely on cat leap sense

that this isn’t Home?   Is it?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s