a chance of dust

When all alibis fail there is always

  that cloud of dust.  The bunch

 of cowboys tearing off into the hills

leave it in their wake, or the tattooed

 biker who leaves the curb at one hundred

 per hour,  a sting of plastic colors

 for this frustrated summer

flying in your face.  It sweeps in

   from a devastated landscape

       or  a bad dream, or

         a once read novel 

                             peopled

by folks  with gritty hair

and unsung stories.  Or maybe

floats in because just this once, the 

rain holds back.  Because the

winds you no longer expected

surprise you with a turn for

the worse.  It can in fact

happen to anyone.  Nothing to

be done.  So let´s just take life

as it is, at least for today. Come,

let's drink from these cups of water

or better yet, toast to  the hearty excuse: 

the clarity that just wasn´t 

 there, the foiled shots and the

  soiled lenses.  Why after all

not rejoice at enigma, that

forever blurred attempt to

capture what might come

next?

-   miriam adelman