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I want to claim
that burst of blue,
to register it is an
antidote to the explosion
of too much emotion,
the yellows, reds and greens
that bombard my morning
vision. Can we get
along or can’t we?
Not when one young man
sets his anger on fire
and it’s lights out
for everyone around him.
In response to Eva Lundsager’s painting of the same title.
I chart the psyche, observing how I force myself to speak to you, imagining that together we might transform a life. Why this need to document change, to reverse a mood, to carry forward the time when magnolias bloom? Let’s follow the itinerant we up and over the jonquil's back, treading on its spilled bullion.
Let's use our nicknames When we apply for this next job Even though it's past our bedtime And our current paycheck Can't shut up the muse Who mewls at the dinner table Begging for a crust of bread To sate the nightly terrors. For they come, don't they, Leaving empty spaces numbers Are supposed to fill. Buddy And Chip loaded their coffers Before the hard freeze. The ice burns our tongues As we swallow prosperity One parched drop at a time.
I remember the hour you stole time from me and here in these late pages I try to collect back the kisses in the parking lot that erased my history next to that green F-150 when you became my future.