chasing light, wading into the dark...

photo by Edward Rinaldi ©

mapping all our loves for sale

at night I like to go out

to convenience stores

I enjoy looking at everyone

under the white light serenade

I look at their bucket loaded emotions

their close vested uncertainties

I question the motivations

milk egg bread cheese and beer

what has brought them here

what do each of our lives

have to do to fill in

the spaces between ancillary intelligence

and the stick figures of our desires

are we fragments of bone

are we skin and muscle atoned

are we eternities

are we dreams of chance

are we dancing blind here

with a salt sugar squeeze

against a scent of immortality

or are we just moments made

into coffins and history

market research waiting

the gold of Coronado

is in the memory of the Sun

when it is dark out

the plated seams of humanity

is in our old paper promises

our four wheeled metal machines

the reasons why we slurp junk 

and drive wired

we are always craving

more combustion

more hose to heel

I know how to deal myself not seen

when I leave the house at night

the store, sometimes, is where

I leave my money on the counter

and walk out empty handed

more than willing to steal from myself

this way I can ensure

no one will ever see me packaged

a shiny plastic shrink wrapped

bright lettered poet for sale

EJR ©