And so your words come slowly,
squeezed like frozen toothpaste;
they do not echo;
they fall with a dull clunk.
.
And so your words come slowly
like a sail boat becalmed;
they hover over her,
dark storm on the horizon.
.
And so your words come slowly;
she watches them
approaching from the distance
like a prairie dust storm.
.
Your
.
words
.
c o m e
.
s l o w l y.
Snow falling
dancing white specks
journeys from heaven
quickly absorbed
in mundane.
.
Plane flying
leaving white trails
journey from you
quickly absorbed
in fast lanes
Of course ghosts are real
Haven’t you felt them
swirling about you
like leaves in the wind?
Memories that haunt
spinning through your head
with joys and sorrows
that have no place in
tomorrow.
Like a stone on the beach
she picked him up,
and took him home.
He filled her with new life,
and they held companionable
hands, two became four.
Beneath the bubble,
Poisons devoured him in relentless nibbles,
and the doctor said his only hope
was a healing journey
to a new way of life.
But toward,
is also away,
and children waved good-bye
to their skipping stone,
who crossed an ocean and
disappeared into time.
There could be no fewer steps
than those he trodded toward you
straight limbed and unencumbered
directly into destiny.
There could be no fewer steps
than those away from dreams
point-less apparitions
of troubled consciousness
directly into destiny.
.
.
.
(I don’t know what it means. If you have an idea, feel free to share!)
The trucks are packed
tight with boxes and furniture.
You’re off to The Big City for university,
to earn the final credentials to begin your career.
.
Sorry to hear about the flat tire on the Coquihalla Highway, kid.
.
.
.
The Coquihalla Highway connects the interior of BC with the Lower Mainland and Greater Vancouver. It is a high mountain pass.
Small oasis.
Forest of calm
amid desiccating storm.
Drop of water.
Rest.
Shawn L. Bird 