video stores, coffee shops, birkenstocks,
catherine keener.  i want to live there.

lovers between the rocks
on a remote part of the shore
with sand in their locks
and pain to explore

their skin changes hue
pink and then gold
before they vanish into
night's twinkling threshold

can't say it's something i totally admire
but his propulsive desire
i can't really blame
for so many of us are drawn to the flame

he had a dignified stillness
that communicated confidence
and an air of quiet dominance

but the truth he long denied
for despite his surface pride
he was panicked on the inside

so as he walked to work in the rain
he looked up, and a thought splashed into his brain:
"even the tallest, strongest buildings sway"
and that calmed his soul, at least for the day.

it's a place i've only seen in pictures
a ruddy monument of sand and stone
with bold striations like ancient scriptures;
a history engraved upon a colossal throne.

summer ghosts roam the islands
floating through flesh and bone
winter ghosts haunt the highlands
where lonely travelers are never alone

spring ghosts dance in the midlands
leaping through hearts like flame
and autumn ghosts chant in the woodlands
where the song is never the same

her purse had a large gold clasp
sweaty knuckles, she gripped it so tight
keeping the key to her heart's hasp
in a blackened place, away from the light

self-defense was her way of life
that no one else could really know
for emotion is the invisible knife
that can cut with the simplest "Hello".