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see you down the road
when you first held me in your arms
singing a lullaby in that sing-songy voice g-d programs for us
To have around babies
You must’ve wanted to tell me
That a part of you would be around no matter what
today i watched people throw rocks in a fire
Through a screen
To honor a dead comrade of their kinda nomadic group
And someone in the film said he would always see people again
A day
A month
A thousand years
even those that went to [ ]
He’d see their van charging up the road
Modern pioneers because our society only cares for the temporal
One day i will see an elderly man in a golf tee
Associations primed for years will kick in
“POP”! I’ll scream, wanting to hug
Reunite, catchup (we got a lot to go through)
Turns in a confusion i’ve never seen
And then the hurt will come back
In conclusion, one day i’ll see you at pebble beach
Trying to hit a hole in one.
Love you big.
“fifteen minutes to midnight: a dream sequence”
one minute im on the outer banks
Cavorting among minute grains of sand while yelling “Harris Cheater” at my sister
For bumping into her at the racetrack
The next moment, like a page turned in a book
Im at the train, surrounded by throngs
In assorted clothing
Some look like historical reenactor a
Others like your local airplane traveler
we’re all going to 1865 for some nebulous mission
Something about stopping some actor from jumping off the balcony
There’s some foreshadowing of the world that is to come through some poetry book whose author’s name is at the tip of my tongue
Something mcsomething
Some thought comes to me that i probably know it from an anna burns novel
The next moment, i’m seeing a children's book about strippers that was too raunchy for PEN
Femmes cavorting around poles, throwing their limbs like a potter throwing clay
Some even kiss and grind upon each other, whether for the customers or themselves is hard to tell
i walk the middle path and say a “that’s cool” to an artist who went to an upper echelon art school and has to use their passion to be sold into the paradoxical nightmare that is capitalism
With few alternatives and even fewer choices: work or die
Maybe there were uniforms in my vision
Maybe there weren’t
But there were chants and speeches on this selfsame subject
And the next my thoughts swirl around
Is it burnout? Coffee? Autism? Anxiety? A headache?
I’m stuck in this hurricane of worry without a webmd article to doom scroll
The world may end in nuclear devastation with pockmarks of human activity
Or a paradise where everyone can choose to work without the braiding of whips,
Could it be
Even possible for such a world to exist?
