i imagine a saturday morning.
a day after a storm like this
a bliss that screams freedom
with the cluttered leaves and broken trees consuming our
dirty urban streets
the traffic lights blinking for no one
on and off at increments
what relevance does time hold
to my hopes and carefree breathing?
my heart the only beating
among debris and residue
i imagine a saturday morning.
the kind you'd like to live
the kind where you could give
yourself completely
and sweetly sing songs of surrender
you build a nest under a bridge and call it home
you no longer run with nothing to run from
neon signs rendered useless all around you
and if i found you, on the ground, your body twisted
like an animal
and if i loved you, anyway, what difference would it make?
i imagine a saturday morning.
our own garden of eden, post-apocalypse, post-industrial
postcards plastered as reminders of another life
a world of work shifts, please and thank yous, all behind us
what defined us, then, our diets, our possessions?
no longer ruled by our obsessions,
we live with the clean confidence of infants
our histories washed out by the evening's rain
i imagine you there with me
but would you notice me
or wither away in peace and self-contentment?
No comments:
Post a Comment