Monday, June 12, 2017

A Language for the Unknown



When your name came across the loud speaker
I stepped away from the truck stop to listen.
Yep! That was your name alright, except with
an unusual rolling of the “r.”  I thought you’d
materialize like a narcotic vapor over one
after waking out of a fainting spell.
A butterfly came down and I kissed it.
I guess that was what I was supposed to do
on the sidewalk, in the moonlight,
with the large trees budding.
A Frisbee landed out in the field
and two pidgins clamored after it.
I handed them each a dollar.
I started to feel you were lost somewhere.
That somewhere misplaced was the luggage
that held your beautifully folded arms.
I reached down for your razor,
followed an onion to your feet,
its core pealed down to the tearful end.

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