august 30
first hint of fall is
approaching
under the dark clouds and rolling
mist
i'm racing past your house
and breathing in
subtle changes
new arrivals
lost thoughts

on the next street a
mansion is rising next to the
garden without flowers and a
window without curtains and
the fence painted
too many colors to catalog

they are riding in tandem,
her legs pitched perfectly toward the sky
around a bend disappearing into
laughter and all good things
yet untarnished

people on bicycles
in cars
are catching my eye as if
i know something
(a secret, perhaps)
but all i see is the guitar you've placed
on the trunk of a car
that reminds me of hers

i think,
that this moment must be liberation
freedom from anything that will
cage me or break me
down
a way to understand why i
crave touch but am more willing next time to
avoid the quick fumble
fast puncture
deliberate response
and instead search for something i can
remember and
live again over
and over and over
(fast,
but never forgotten)