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Conscience In The Rear Vision Mirror

 

I see you.

A dog barks.

My stomach growls.

We smile a wordless equation.

Delicious significance.

Good things.

Small packages.

Invisible. Priceless. Hungry.

Moved closer

to each other

on life's chessboard.

By accident? By whom?

I painted a day of you

this morning on the bus.

Gazing out my easel window.

Cheesy beaded curtains of rain.

The knowledge of you

seeped sweetly

from scented brush strokes

between the passing landscape and reflection.

All nestled in gestures.

Everything hoarded by desire.

A tightly bound insight

in an unknown language.

Nothing's been said yet!

It leaves me poring

over your expressions.

Your "I don't know" face.

Do you?

The unknowns

cross my mind

with the intensity

of an intersection car crash.

High beam and horn.

Blood pounding.

Making their own headlines.

Warning signs in foolhardy fonts.

STOP.

Skidding on thin ice.

Braking my heart.

High speed.

No seatbelt.

Expressing themselves

in long moments

forever frozen and

desperate for wisdom.

I'm bracing myself for forgiveness.

Looking in the mirror

without a hint of regret.

Raging furiously towards acceptance.

Accelerating.

 


 

Copyright © 2008 Richard Cannane Publishing
03. Mai 2013