Category: Poetry

i bought a suit jacket
and an overcoat,
pants, socks and
leather shoes.
the shoes were
portuguese, not
italian, but they
did the job.
i had big plans,
plans i entertained.
i sat there
on the bed in the
hotel.
i sat there
and sat there
and thought about
everything.
all the flights
were cancelled,
hurricane force winds
they said,
so it seemed everyone
was looking for
a hotel.
i guess i
was lucky.
it never really
got dark;
the light just paled
slightly this time
of year.
i thought of
the countryside;
it was treeless
and windswept.
i thought of my
newly purchased
portuguese leather
shoes and how
far I could walk
in them.
all the flights
were cancelled,
hurricane force winds,
so they said.
the daylight
faded slightly and turned
to that milky, off-white
color that
was considered night.
i finally
went to sleep
and left the following
morning when the
winds died down.
on the end of the
bed i left
my new attire;
i neatly
folded my suit
jacket and overcoat,
my pants and new socks.
i left the leather portuguese
shoes, too.
they weren’t italian,
but they got
the job done.

i can’t imagine it
burning out so quick
bright so bright
a screaming brightness
then burning out
so quick
a dazzling intensity
and then nothing
it must be hard
such desire
alongside such fear

i awake.
i don’t check the clock.
the world is
a murmur
now.
behind the curtains
the sky is a dull gray.
i think about the
time difference
and wonder if this
dull gray sky is everywhere;
does it stretch all
the way?
does it touch you?
this would be our
only connection now.
but surely it is
day there,
the world
no longer a murmur.
tomorrow, however,
you will wake to
dull light
and wonder if
your gray sky
stretches over to
me, too.
we will exchange this;
the question posed
when we wake
in the night
and wonder about
the dull murmur of
the world
and the gray sky…
and then
one day we won’t.