Friday, January 12, 2007

Random Drinks and Illusions

before the event

and a posse of poses for time—

don’t forget I brought
you flowers
in a jar

shaped like your work station

and you laughed
when I mentioned
they were looking
towards the sun of profit

* * *

can you bend that way—
into the shoal
where you drift the driftwood

collected from conversations
we had

it was a winter day
and you imagined sun—
you imagined earth

opening like the vaults of a pyramid—
the only treasure gone—

spent on a cigarette and gin—
on sand and last breaths

* * *

alleys and roads—alleys and roads
as though

there is no difference between
dead ends and choice

we always know a short-cut
cut out of our experience

I imagine a café in a dead-end court
and musicians playing songs

from somewhere else—always
in the key of my life

* * *

we were on our way
to early farmer’s market

the car just parked on King Street
and the sky opened up

when I glanced that way—
a landing plane—

a shooting star—
a comet falling

into the rising sun
and the dying host

of my shadow

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