The day was today. Again. Again.
I hop in my truck and head south,
to stop by my old home. The ride
rode light, being as a child
baggage was balloon, thought of
flight. I light a cigarette and
pick up the old friend. He left
his home dropped control and made
the confession. Then we head for
water. My sister there already and
her husband with her. We all knew
the ___ of the ___ (inescapable moment
of turning). The verse was right on
our heels. One felt. He felt. She
thought this might be important.
It had been planned. We gather,
more come, and spoke of beauty.
And I, like a bird, lost the sun
over the cliff and flew down into
the water. The wind soft. The
water fluid.
I hop in my truck and head south,
to stop by my old home. The ride
rode light, being as a child
baggage was balloon, thought of
flight. I light a cigarette and
pick up the old friend. He left
his home dropped control and made
the confession. Then we head for
water. My sister there already and
her husband with her. We all knew
the ___ of the ___ (inescapable moment
of turning). The verse was right on
our heels. One felt. He felt. She
thought this might be important.
It had been planned. We gather,
more come, and spoke of beauty.
And I, like a bird, lost the sun
over the cliff and flew down into
the water. The wind soft. The
water fluid.
posted by Esteban at 2:58 PM
2 Comments:
Hey, remember when you posted that poem called "Few and Far Between," and then I told you that it reminded me of a short film?
Well, after years of searching I finally found it. It's called "The Littlest Robo," and I posted it on my blog.
tre magnifique. you wrote it, i can feel it
Postar um comentário
<< Home