sexta-feira, 29 de janeiro de 2016

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

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