This long and earthen road
mud and dusty roadside weeds
flanked by crows and slim carrion
my body knows the way and my dog the scents
of mailbox to mailbox and eyes out for rabbits
both in our quiet companionship
winter’s breaking in this town
water kicks into my shoes
but that’s okay
whatever to feel like childhood
and my sad Mary memories
I watch a sepia ghost on my peripheral
she stands by the pond, murky
stops and stares
and I stare back
without manners
and back at home,
the rafters creak
and I’m surrounded by woodburner smell
and stripped down to my underwear
I let my back burn on the crisp heat
and tuck into my books.
the saints and kerouacs speak softly.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 1:49 AM UTC
This long and earthen road
mud and dusty roadside weeds
flanked by crows and slim carrion
my body knows the way and my dog the scents
of mailbox to mailbox and eyes out for rabbits
both in our quiet companionship
winter’s breaking in this town
water kicks into my shoes
but that’s okay
whatever to feel like childhood
and my sad Mary memories
I watch a sepia ghost on my peripheral
she stands by the pond, murky
stops and stares
and I stare back
without manners
and back at home,
the rafters creak
and I’m surrounded by woodburner smell
and stripped down to my underwear
I let my back burn on the crisp heat
and tuck into my books.
the saints and kerouacs speak softly.
