OPEN
The sign, red in the dark,
I can see it.
People shuffle by, they
are worlds in an uncertain
orbit, passing me.
It’s stuffy in this bus and
I’m warm in the worst kind of way.
The people I see, they are zipped
or buttoned in coats;
warm in the best kind of way.
A school bus hurtles by
leaving yellow in my eyes.
It startled me.
Where are the children?
There’s a shop selling flowers.
Dylan bought some once, the colors
were nice until they bled in the water.
Imposter flowers.
It’s like I’m living in a popcorn kernel;
the bus ride makes it pop.
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Love
It’s that feeling reminiscent of
sensations produced by music. An ocean
behind your nose, swelling.
It could burst out of your ears.
It’s the sound of a bell, striking,
your eyes got wide.
Bell rings multiply leaving
your chest full of it.
It just feels right, comets
reeling above my head
into space devoid of stars
and full of myself.
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Oblivious
On fireworkey nights when I’m “out to lunch” (as
Nonna once said) I blow kisses at the sky,
praying for a response.
Apples tingle in my throat and it swells,
but I’m just not paying attention.
War and Peace lies open, unread.
I’ve got a sense of something though, I know
it’s Friday, 10 PM. The temperature is cool
and I’m wearing a red sweatshirt.
It’s not that I don’t care, I just need to
sit alone on the beach. Only the beach, and me,
then I can get back to it.
It. Life, followed by a question mark.
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I wrote all of these during my six hour bus ride to Boston. AKA Hell. It was fine though, since I had some Elizabeth Bishop and Allen Ginsberg books to read. I kept myself occupied, and I’m alive, so it’s all good! I’m so full from Thanksgiving that I might explode.
cheers–
