the station
rose colored pine trees make a knife-tipped eclipse
a needle-ended siloette sitting on the mountains
the sunset serpent shivers for a moment
cold-blooded stars see the splintered shiver and shimmer
singing to a belated winter
the lights below the sidewalk grow the dimmer as i wait for the stainless steel swimmer. slithering a silver simmer in waters too deep for watercolors. i did not see the others, but they would be here soon, as it was almost noon.
each grey brick was still trying to wake up, stretching rectangle arms. it still made me uncomfortable sometimes, but not today. today i could hear the snake a mile below the lake, whipping fins and tails upon the blind magnetic rails. a steady fade in of screeches.
the eyes always seemed lazy and uninterested, but i knew they were watching me, it still made me uncomfortable sometimes, but not today. today i tied my black shoes with double knots, today i took in every vibration, looking for one, listening for a voice i almost knew would come.
the train had stopped in front of me, and i turned to look in slow motion. the doors finally opened, and the sand poured out. there was the optical illusion i had been looking for, a mirage upon a city-slicked horizon.
the gentle dunes held no footprints, the great arched backs of a thousand antique whales. the wind blowing particles into different colored whisps of fire, their harpoon-hooked whispers fading into the distance.
i turned again, in slow motion, and saw her. she had her back to me, a set of perfect eyes molding sunset skies. i remember her telling me what the clouds looked like that day, they were like dragons, breathing midnight embers to a dream of dawn. and their wings, i remember she said something about their wings.
i turn over in the sand and hold her face, but the sand falls through my fingers.
i step through the oasis and the doors closed, their one-sided windows looking back at the stairway, looking back beyond a veil.
i knew it was just another day, people pressed around me, it still made me uncomfortable sometimes, but not today. today my brief case and walking stick were left at home.
today i could see her waiting in the station, today i could see from behind the glasses.
a needle-ended siloette sitting on the mountains
the sunset serpent shivers for a moment
cold-blooded stars see the splintered shiver and shimmer
singing to a belated winter
the lights below the sidewalk grow the dimmer as i wait for the stainless steel swimmer. slithering a silver simmer in waters too deep for watercolors. i did not see the others, but they would be here soon, as it was almost noon.
each grey brick was still trying to wake up, stretching rectangle arms. it still made me uncomfortable sometimes, but not today. today i could hear the snake a mile below the lake, whipping fins and tails upon the blind magnetic rails. a steady fade in of screeches.
the eyes always seemed lazy and uninterested, but i knew they were watching me, it still made me uncomfortable sometimes, but not today. today i tied my black shoes with double knots, today i took in every vibration, looking for one, listening for a voice i almost knew would come.
the train had stopped in front of me, and i turned to look in slow motion. the doors finally opened, and the sand poured out. there was the optical illusion i had been looking for, a mirage upon a city-slicked horizon.
the gentle dunes held no footprints, the great arched backs of a thousand antique whales. the wind blowing particles into different colored whisps of fire, their harpoon-hooked whispers fading into the distance.
i turned again, in slow motion, and saw her. she had her back to me, a set of perfect eyes molding sunset skies. i remember her telling me what the clouds looked like that day, they were like dragons, breathing midnight embers to a dream of dawn. and their wings, i remember she said something about their wings.
i turn over in the sand and hold her face, but the sand falls through my fingers.
i step through the oasis and the doors closed, their one-sided windows looking back at the stairway, looking back beyond a veil.
i knew it was just another day, people pressed around me, it still made me uncomfortable sometimes, but not today. today my brief case and walking stick were left at home.
today i could see her waiting in the station, today i could see from behind the glasses.