Thursday, October 28, 2010

a walk

(In this way)
Yellow fires light
long yellow streets,
grown thick and syrupy,
under mustard yellow skies,

a single survivor-spectator
breaks through pavement
following the trail left
smoking and concealed
with windows down,
of a four door sedan and arms
fixed to window sills,
radio humming absently

We'd go down to the river, and into the river we'd dive
Oh, down to the river we'd ride-i-i-ide...

(But there's no one else in this [God] forsaken place,
he's seen all the parked cars on all the quiet streets
and yet...)

They vanished right into the air...

The smoke clears the horizon merging gray coarse clouds
with sparkling rain, unable to reach the ground, choking-

(...if only the skies would open up, I could see)

-the heavens, and the survivor below
and there is no oxygen in this hell,
only fires splattered with yellow paint-

(the stars fall sonorously...)

though I know the river is dry-


(in love)

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