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 Mar 2017 Laura Enright
Eric W
I'll send a nice message
straight through the wires
with the bird outside my window.
I'll wrap the paper up
with a nice little bow
and a short piece of twine
for him to carry onward
to speak into your mind.
He'll make it in the morning,
I know he surely will
to be there when you wake up
to tell you how I feel.
To yesterday morning, when we had both slept lightly, miles apart, and woke up to the birds chirping outside our windows.
There's a gypsy in the heart of me,
that wants to run the road;
a vagabond is lurking there,
to the fields, my heart's been sold.
There's a restless soul that's yearning,
to wonder at the wild;
a carefree, urging spirit,
of an enchanted child.
There's a ***** inside my blood,
that never will be still;
to hear and see all nature,
until I've had my fill.
There's a traveler in my mind,
who hears the seashore's song;
to walk along the beaches,
to escape the cities throng.
There's a gypsy in my musings,
that clamors for the highway;
ever searching, ever seeking,
an endless, nameless byway.
Stalled in afternoon traffic
by the crack of a jackhammer
and the smell of hot asphalt,
what else is there to do but wait
for the sun-kissed woman
in muddy work boots and
orange vest to acknowledge me.

She has a tattoo of an AR-15
on her left forearm and more
ink (an octopus?) under her eye.

She is in total control.

Her unclasped safety
vest ***** in the wind.
The smoke from her
Marlboro Red snakes
down the line of cars
and wafts into my open
window with a smell
so strong she should
be riding shotgun.

She alone will deliver me.

As the jackhammer
fires on full auto,
I wait like a child
for my turn to go.

Her eyes squint and the octopus
squirms and my afternoon restarts
with another twist of her gloved hand,
the sign revolving from Stop to Slow.
nothing much happened today
no great calamity, no suprising visitor
the cornflakes dried to a cement like
consistency in the chipped blue bowl
the tuxedo rex vomited on the newly bought
home beautiful magazine..

my heart beat at a lazy 74 beats per minute
when i checked after my nana nap
my bad ankle creaked and twinged
reminding me to get the towels in
before it rained

I made a wonderful chicken cashew curry
for dinner, but fogot to buy naan bread
and yogurt to accompany it..

I kissed the god boy goodnight,
then read two chapters of Harry Potter aloud
as the tuxedo rex, watched me, from the windowsill

marked some essays of dubious quality,
was given a shoulder massage,
by my agong surfer dude,
that led to much greater intimacies

no, nothing much happened today
yet it was fufilling, upon looking back
it had rhythm and purpose
turned the cogs of my world
it was the miles between the milestones
that often go unrecorded

and as I sit in the almost dark of the moon
I do believe it was one of the best days of my life
 Mar 2017 Laura Enright
Hannah
I followed a thin blue line
between the folds of a map.
I passed by rivers wider than time,
mountains larger than life,
and traveled through valleys
tucked between canyon walls.
I have been from the east coast
of Niagara Falls,
to the west coast
of California's golden shores.
I have seen the Shenandoah River,
explored the Appalachian Trail,
and the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
I have gazed at those
white capped mountains,
while the sun slowly set behind them,
setting fire to the sky  
with swirling oranges,
yellows, pinks, and reds.
I have fallen in love
with the open road,
with the freedom
of a full tank of gas,
and no destination.
I found my soul on this road,
but I hope to find a place
to bring this soul home.
I imagine a place,
somewhere along California's shores,
where I can rest my head,
and finally start something more.
~ I'm almost home.
Sometimes I wonder if you find yourself here
Scrolling through the words of my past
Wondering if you're still in my mind
Or even scrolling further back to see all my love poems to you
Well if you haven't noticed you haven't left my head

So if by chance you've stopped by this page today my darling
Hello.
I miss last summer
And mattresses on the floor
And empty liquor bottles
And coming back for more.

I miss the beginning
How strange it might have seemed
That the adventures I now look back on
Now sit on my mind like fuzzy dreams.

Your car was way too hot for me
Most rides were windows down
Can’t forget falling asleep in your passenger seat
Whenever you drove around.

Each day was nothing different
Laying on that trampoline became routine
But that’s what I loved the most
Like in a movie, we played the scenes.

I miss last summer
And a room without a door
And a front porch covered in people
With the one that I adored.
Poets, artists, free-thinkers,
Those who are mad and young and crazy and magic
Who sprinkle glitter under their eyes
And run about the night city streets
and flit about in a dazzling, burning light
who are enchanted by the very world in front of their
long criss-crossed lashes.

But very few wear those round rose-coloured glasses
In which I view the world through

Who, Like some dreaming Tom Thumb
Will happily sew patches
Embroidered in free-footed ecstasy
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