Monday, August 27, 2012

Where I can find a home

Ah man, sound of cars
reluctantly head north
over the old bridges
at a new angle, crossing
the river--God's river--the
ol' Potomac, that's one of those
ancient arteries drives right into the heart
of the dark American soul, the mighty
rushing waves too far away to
hear over heavy planes
that scorch the sky with businessmen,
stewardesses, free drinks and first classes,
I'm in a new room, that's again,
not my own, tip-toeing uncertainty,
wondering when these sounds
will be mine again, when these sensations
will be private, when I can finally
let these bones rest as the
door closes

1 comment:

  1. Wow. I know that feeling. Waiting to conform to a place. New creaking and new ambient hums and new appliance groans...

    I really like the phrasing that could mean planes are using businessmen, stewardesses, and free drinks to scorch the sky.