to the heartbeats of
photographs in an album
page by page and
time a bungee cord
we between progress and departure point
inertia and the force of weight placed
upon our shoulders.
Sisyphus eats a cheeseburger
while his children roll away grandchildren
in the curled horizons of turning pages.
I’ll admit to you our first kiss is still a taste in my mouth
and your breath in my ear storm
that disturbs these chaste rainless summer days
without crisis and paint spattered by our random brush.
My eyes and ears are saturated
my tongue tangled in before
my hands wrapped around an image
of two walking down a dirt road.
Queen Ann’s lace blooms
a hawk and crow draft noon air
which hovers in the creases of cedar rail fence
the demarcation between crop and weed.
Somewhere beyond this window cage
looking onto parking lot
this sound of footsteps in a hallway
where time peels from the walls
I position you with arms folded
eyes unencumbered by the past
a lightening strike on the peneplain
between today and yesterday.