domingo, 26 de janeiro de 2014

Not quite a poem...


 

'Love will be another day.'  That’s what my horoscope
said yesterday, and I the unbeliever, believe it.
Just like my sister who says, ‘everyone needs  some
magical thinking once in awhile ‘. And so I go back
to packing my boxes of books, weeding out
the ones I know I’ll never read again, sometimes
stopping,  sidetracked by  lines that re-ignite.
I look for jaguar eyes and words so wise I
know they can bring me up the mountain again. 
There’s Hettie and Diane and Joyce, my Beat ladies
whose stories I keep re-reading.  How they shared
wine and dope and nights with the great guys
 'till the road forked forever and ever, making... us!
And then there’s you,  where I see you now, standing
so close to the edge of the cliff I  could almost
 reach out and pull you back.

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