PureVolume

winter memoire

pitted roads filled with

a grey mix of gravelled snow

spraying off into the fields.

i bounce along in a borrowed truck

lent to me in turn by an old friend,

up for the weekend.

things here are older than they were

two years back.

(the last time i was home.)

farm fields playing dead against the cold

reminds me of being younger

and walking the roadside in winters like this one.

and i think to myself “jesus! i am aging!”

but not too fast, or badly.
so i guess it's all okay after all.

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so for you, who wander the deathless night air. (-super old, like early 2008)

wandering the streets,
watch the cars roll away backwards.
streetlights tower over you and bathe your movement in light,
you only want to escape.
from open doorways music floats out and you get captured in the sound.
you want them to stay up all night and watch you cry on the stone.
when home comes back in what sense you can own to the word,
you find your bed is as one made for a queen.
and the search ends, the whole world can see you throw up your hands.
it hangs on a thread as you hang onto your every breath.
moving to where no one expected is what you've got left.
somewhere where the tide soaks your hem, at every swell of the ocean.
i want you to have peace,
lie back in the sand and watch the full moon replace the sun.
you feel real in that small moment between the two cousin's risings.
and i love the way
i finally see your teeth when you smile.

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