Through the fog on the other side of the river, I saw you---
you and only you---
until it got so bright with everything spangled, that I could no longer stay in place
I closed my eyes while on the hammock and drowned my thoughts with thoughts of you,
and of the ice cream truck coming up Bridger North Drive,
and rocket pops,
and dirt bike trails that belonged to us---
us and only us
From across the field, I could see an infantry of lightning bugs,
but we were very far the jars we set aside back in the day,
and now they were muggy with age,
just like you and I---
no, not muggy---
foggy
With our hands clasped and our feet treading toward a beaten path,
we were anything but beaten,
but we were regretful for having not believed that everything is illuminated,
because it is---
it is illuminated
And in the crestfallen moments of a dangler,
of a bursting fountain,
at the aorta of the spider,
in the crossfire of the crossette,
and at long last, coming head to head with the end of the Kamuro,
we would show them that we believed in putting it all---
on Display.
This is poetry. Wonderfully elaborate detail. Perhaps I am too familiar with the surroundings you've described, but to me it feels very tangible. This was the most illustrous stanza:
ReplyDeleteAnd in the crestfallen moments of a dangler,
of a bursting fountain,
at the aorta of the spider,
in the crossfire of the crossette,
and at long last, coming head to head with the end of the Kamuro,
You can certainly feel the nature in front of you. There is a sort of magical realism going on as well, almost like the writing of Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
Infantry of lightning bugs. I like that one.
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