Falling asleep on the pavement
I think of all the seamstresses I’ve met
The barmen that I’ve talked to
The fishermen waving to me from the ocean
It occurs that there are stars
Mingling in the minds of my memories
And the distance between my friends
Wandering the silent world
Rusted and littered the sidewalks
We still kicked the cans and laughed
Hustling through the burns of the wave
Making it through the day
Lying on the gravel, I
See the trains of the passers-by
Rushing to their stations, adjourning
Riveting to another impression
The inference of question, treason
There was no need for us to speak
Because it haunted always from within
And we knew it and we threw it as such
Dying on the ground, I know
The reaches of the dusty universe
The follies of the ground of man
Circling in the woods again.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
Falling asleep on the pavement
I think of all the seamstresses I’ve met
The barmen that I’ve talked to
The fishermen waving to me from the ocean
It occurs that there are stars
Mingling in the minds of my memories
And the distance between my friends
Wandering the silent world
Rusted and littered the sidewalks
We still kicked the cans and laughed
Hustling through the burns of the wave
Making it through the day
Lying on the gravel, I
See the trains of the passers-by
Rushing to their stations, adjourning
Riveting to another impression
The inference of question, treason
There was no need for us to speak
Because it haunted always from within
And we knew it and we threw it as such
Dying on the ground, I know
The reaches of the dusty universe
The follies of the ground of man
Circling in the woods again.
© Helios Rietberg, June 2010
