Wednesday, July 20, 2011


With money, jet-setting through
fragile clouds and the runway appears,
beacon and umbilical cord
Icarus severed as he ascended.

By car down the spewing artery,
towns truncated in the rear-view,
signs singing the pleasures of,
a cheap motel, a clean bed.

With camera and gray purpose,
recording each step as though
film noir, exaggerated magnitude,
denouement in the middle of

cathartic climax
— lost tourist,
reaches for the expectation
and finds a woman who serves
him a glass of wine, baguette,

cheese, smiles with the same
smile as the girl at the meat counter,
Saturday morning, farmer’s market,
the corner of King and Cedar, home.

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