Universe is cool, cruel. Twice blue.
Icicles finding hiking, true.
If you air guitar to Hold That Train on a pole,
going down a mountain slope,
an ankle sprains.
Face in the dirt, hurts and laughs at the same time.
Songs, rhymes on a dime flipped in France.
It’s raining there.
Where green goes to snow, no, clear tears,
really doesn’t matter. Fact is that. It’s catching up
like the trip it says it is. Listen.
With ear buds hugging that trail.
There’s threads brushed and shrugged
because it’s all just a chill,
still as those statues in the front row.
Hold that. Note in g on the tracks taken back.
And if you lose a tail, let the head say goodbye.
Dance and cry.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s