Monday, September 10, 2012

The Drive Home

small gray clouds buttressed
billowy pure white clusters in
the sky repeating themselves
again and over and forever in the crisp blue
of so much blueness that
I questioned its reality in
the autumn like sun of the highway,
each cloud was like an x-ray Russian
doll puffed and shrinking like
the ouroboros never-ending until
the final speck of madness atomized
into the abyss,
                         I thought of your
body, heavenly in my arms, tanned skin,
soft and moist on my lips,
                                           the road
poured out at the off ramp before I
lost the clouds and the thought,
rushing for traffic lights to sit
and breathe and focus on the colors,
clear and unbiased,
I've led a happy life with you
but I've not led a happy life.


  1. sincere words,

    happiness is personal feelings.
    much happiness to you and your love.