Sunday, March 26, 2017

A Poem

A full moon
not quite full
but close, 
casting beauty
bouncing off faces
bringing out the hue in eyes

I look up in a window
an upper floor room
and see orange ladders
and fresh walls
white and fragrant

I imagine dancing, dancing with him
paint smeared on our tees and cheeks
matted hair
streaks of white
too impatient to wait

I look down
a Sunkist can
a rolled up rug
someone’s heart

Cigarettes and cigarettes
a box of used books
slightly smelly
should we steer clear?
but free—free books!

dogs too small
dogs too big
fallen metrocards and littered to-go’s

and men and women with flaps of cardboard
a sharpie taken to them

Watery eyes
torn skin
a plea for help

I walk and walk
wondering how I got here—
wondering how I've stayed here.
How am I here?

Dishes clank
I saunter past the backside of cafes
kitchen windows are cracked
and radios raised
voices sing along inside

As I write
the coffee shop is getting crowded

My back is to the line and counter
but I hear as people enter and exit
the creak of the door

I feel the cool draft 
the outside air gushing in eagerly
while it is able

Overhead is Bono's voice
replacing Chris Martin's

"I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls"

My left bicep starts to throb
I rub my eyes

"But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for"

"But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for"

The throbbing stops
and I inhale deeply
resting my head on the concrete wall beside me
painted white
although not fresh and fragrant

I'm yanked from my daydreaming upon realizing where I am
"Decaf soy latte on the counter"
Chairs push out and people wander over
fetching their orders and muttering
soft "Thank you"s

"But I still haven't found
what I'm looking for"

I guess I better stop looking

I close my eyes
and imagine dancing, dancing with him
and the moon's light bouncing off faces

Don't look for,
look at

take in
turn wall paint into warrior paint
and go fetch that parfait
(even if you didn't order it)