may contain artificially flavored poetry

cinnamon


"bend your head backwards until the sky turns to water"

she said as she drove the '78 trans am on an unlined road
red horizon chrome sunbeams black earth impossible blue
everywhere

i can still smell the inside of that car
and the side of her neck from the passenger side
serious road stare and hair whipping round

coffee in the holder
incense in the glovebox

engine ready to burn all fluids


--aug '16

observations

there was this couple


their hands moved everywhere around the table in a dance of avoidance four north poles bouncing around a round box lost but for the ordinary things around them waiting to be held

a glass of tepid water

                                  a half-eaten sandwich

                                                                     a cheap paper napkin

                                                                                                        a freshly harvested heart


***


the couple on the train stared straight ahead swaying slightly in rhythm with the car nowhere touching even though their seats were that close

wheels on rails

louder than shouting

random glances and reflections



***


two voices up ahead two bodies and a sidewalk just wide enough to contain all that talking and gesturing and still there's no contact until the stoplight and a hand shoots out to catch a misstep

sure and quick then retreats into the folds of routine

                                                                                   and the day and the night go on

and on



--aug '16