Search

The End

Updated: Jul 1

after The Doors


We’re perched in the top branches of a tree.

Cauliflower clouds hang in a blue sky

the color of the first day of summer vacation.


We could be in a child’s drawing. Perhaps,

I was that child; perhaps, you were.

Our legs and arms coil like serpents around the limbs.

A portable radio nailed to a branch blares,

"The West is the best. The West is the best.”

It is a darkness like soil, a cool cavern, a time

without a timekeeper, but it is also a fire, a rage, an invitation.


It's summer now, your season.

Your glance sails to the west. The blue of your eyes

marries the air and there is a shine,

sunlight alighting on chrome.


“The Forever Ocean,” you nod,

and I can tell a part of you is swimming there, even now.

A seagull suspends overhead, hangs like an origami ornament.

And, in that moment, a sky-door opens.


“Sidle through, start at the beginning,

but you could lose something,” you caution.


You swab your forehead with a white handkerchief

and continue drinking the ocean with your eyes,


and I know I’m on my own.

It’s a comfort and a curse.

20 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All