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| A June ago at the Poestenkill Gorge |
(is driving through desire
a wonder of what we've become
consuming lonely only lies)
I think it is all humans' dream,
to go back to where
the rain and tides are born ...
I am blinded by the dashboard lights
not realizing there are ghosts
riding every whistled freight train
'bout to run me over
so when pushing other folks to safety
I've one millisecond of freedom
to live my lifetimes
this is what I do
repeatedly
until eye/I get it
right by the hole
in my soul
yes
this is why
I yearn
for a simple mountain life
in the southern Boreals
with abundant fresh water
near the ends of poems
where self sustainability
can be maintained
w/minimal outside assistance
hand held bidets being
converts to my causes
squirt bottled needless toilet paper
a-leaning towards loving you
loving me again
in this dystopian future
of a poem that ends
snowing in April
EJR ©
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